Sickle Brilliance
by diva.gonzo
Summary: Collection of one-shots, all prompt based, submitted by readers and fans, for Ron and Hermione. Special guest appearances by Harry, Ginny, George, and the rest of the family. Rated T for crass language and humor. Cover art graciously approved by the lovely and talented Catching Smoke. (Updated as I have time to write the prompts in my inbox.)
1. Empty Chairs

Hermione watched her trunk get loaded onto the train before taking a seat in one of the middle carriages. She waved at Lavender and Pavarti, who had her sister Padma with her. She'd seen Mrs. Weasley earlier, in passing, before she boarded the train. But the two people who she had waited, rather impatiently for, weren't around. Where could they be?

Hermione walked further up the train, seeing compartments filled with other students, including Slytherin Prefects – but not Ron and Harry.

Where were they?

She finished walking the train, checking every compartment, and her friends weren't on the train. Where could they be? Maybe they were home sick? But if they were sick, wouldn't have Percy or the Twins said something to her? What about Mrs. Weasley? Hermione saw Ginny get on the train, but no Ron or Harry.

Hermione walked back to the compartment where Fred and George were sitting. Katie Bell was with them, along with Alicia Spinnett and Angelina Johnson. "Have you seen Ron and Harry?"

The guys looked at her with suspicious eyes. "They were right behind us, coming into the platform. Did you annoy them with your swotty mouth, talking school before we got there?"

Hermione drew herself up taller and gave them a particularly haughty look. "No, I've not. I've not talked with either one of them except via letter all summer." She closed the door and left, intending to sit with other Gryffindors that might have a seat open.

She walked to the next car and saw Neville sitting with Dean and Seamus, playing Exploding Snap. That wouldn't do, not on the trip there. She sighed, knowing the only other place she'd feel reasonably comfortable was in the compartment with Lavender and Pavarti and Padma. "At least I'll be able to read on the trip."

She shifted the bag across her shoulder and walked the last few feet towards the carriage with the girls. They'd talk the entire trip but she could tune them out while reading about Goblin uprisings in the History of Magic book in her satchel.

She opened the door to the compartment and saw three sets of eyes looking back at her. "Mind if I sit in?" she asked quietly.

"Where's your friends?" Padma asked bluntly.

"I dunno." She pulled the book from her bag and sat quietly in the corner. "Maybe they're home sick." She tried to hide the tear that threatened to escape.

"Oh, ok. Alright," Lavender replied. She turned back to Pavarti and they tittered away, droning about fashions. Hermione was already engrossed in her book, reading the various goblin names and trying desperately to not miss her only two friends.


	2. Thoughts

Acrid smoke and masonry dust coated his face while warm crusty and enthusiastic lips encased his swollen ones.

_What the bloody hell? Hermione's kissing me! What got her to react like that? House elves. Bloody house elves got her to snog me. Why did I wait 'til now to talk about the little buggers?_

_Whoa there, settle down. You can't let her know you're that into her. She doesn't need to know that you've fancied her for years._

_But she's outta my league. There's no way she really means this. Come on, Harry's standing right there. She'll quit snogging me and leap on him. Bugger, she's still kissing me. Oh hell, is she –"_

Fingers pulled through his hair and scraped his scalp. He fought the automatic sway of his hips.

_Oh sweet Merlin! When did she learn how to kiss like this? Lavender was nothing this good. I couldn't stand her pulling my hair. But this is oh so fuckin' good. If she kisses this good now, I wonder what she'd be like –_

_**Oy! There's a war going on here!***_

Oh no, don't quit kissing me like this. _Sigh. _Best let her down to the floor before Harry says anything else, the git he his. There he is and I hope that she doesn't do the same for him. I'd not know what to do.

Oh ho ho. Bloody hell! She's grasping my hand and it so small and so warm and what I'd – she's squeezing my hand. She's not going to go to him too. She's staying in my arms and snuggling in there.

**"I know, mate," said Ron, who looked as though he had recently been hit on the back of the head with a Bludger, "so it's now or never, isn't it?" ***

Hermione hadn't left his arms until she let go so we could get the basilisk fangs.

_**Brilliant!**_

* * *

Did he just say that about House elves? He recognized their value and sanctity of their lives? I need… We could live so much in an hour.

_Lavender, if we survive, I will buy you a subscription of Witch Weekly. Oh dear sweet Jesus, he knows how to kiss. Too late to act restrained. Why did I do this now, with Harry watching? I hope Ron doesn't think I act like a bint with him too. __**Oh! He's squeezing my bum! **__His hands are so large, so strong. What can I do to show him? Oh, I know._

_Oh he has such strong hands. His hips are moving. Is that – why yes it is. Oh sweet Jesus! This is fantastic. He does know how to keep rhythm, with his hips and tongue._

_I know what he's done with her but I sure hope we live through today. I want him to show me what he can do with those hands and those lips. Oh yes please, keep squeezing. Oh! Is that what I –_

_**Oy! There's a war going on here!**_

I pulled back from Ron's very swollen lips and waited for him to let me down slowly to the ground. For once, I couldn't bear the thought of seeing Harry looking lost like this. But I don't want Ron to think I'm leaving him either.

_Yes, his hand will do. It will do very nicely since it was just squeezing my bum._

**"Never mind that, what about the Horcrux?" Harry shouted. "D'you think you could just - just hold it in, until we've got the diadem?"*** I blushed and released Ron, mortified but still needing to stay on task. We bent to collect the basilisk fangs we tossed in our haste. As soon as we had our arms full, he never left my side again.

* * *

**A/N: * - All references are from HP &amp; the Deathly Hollows, American edition (2007).**


	3. Distraction

Robert Granger closed the door to the study and saw Ron sitting down in the cushions of the leather couch. "You're hiding from them like I am, I reckon."

Ron nodded and slouched further down into the couch. "I turned on the telly and that's what they are showing," He pointed at the moving box that was blaring. "I have no clue what sport that is."

Robert laughed. "That, Ron, is called golf. Men hit a ball and then walk to it and hit it again, trying to get it into a cup in the least amount of strokes."

"Blimey, that's all that's happening?" Ron watched. "It looks slow, like watching a gobstones match."

Robert looked at the young man sitting on his couch. "Bet it's quite slow compared to Quidditch, as you've told me."

"Yeah. It's not exciting if there's not a Bludger trying to knock you off your broom."

"But you love chess."

"Well, yeah. I reckon that it's different since you command the pieces like a King or a field marshal would do."

"Well, I've swung a club a few times and it's harder than it looks."

"Really? How hard would it be to hit a stationary ball? Looks like a piece of cake. It's not like being a Keeper for Quidditch."

"**But you said that – "**

Ron pulled his wand and pointed it at the door. The room fell quiet once more. "Sorry, Robert. My ears are still hurting from earlier."

Robert laughed. "Just as long as you're not pointing that wand at me we're sorted."

The men watched the participants on the TV walking while ignoring the commentators. The distraction was well appreciated.

"Hermione's just like her Mum. Sure, she takes after me, about reading and learning and pushing herself to be the best. I'm glad she takes after me like that. But then she's also the worst of us, in some ways. She'll follow the rules even when she shouldn't. She'll stand for causes even when she should let go. And sometimes she just doesn't understand when people get a case of the stupids." Robert looked sideways at Ron who was trying to hide in the couch. "But then she's also like her Mum in some ways, like holding people to their word and gets bent when she thinks that she's been taken advantage of, or been betrayed."

Ron looked at the older man sitting on the other end of the couch.

"I taught Hermione to forgive, when it's warranted. Jean never learned that, not when it's important." He sighed. "I can't fix this, not what Hermione did."

"But we saw the house was in shambles. They'd have killed you trying to find her."

Robert stood up from the couch and looked at Ron. "I get it. I really do. But Hermione used Magic on us. You might not think much of it but Jean sees it as betrayal." He walked to the door. "I hope Hermione realizes the cost of her unilateral choice."


	4. Evasive

**A/N:** This was submitted by a reader on the prompt: _Ron has to ask Hermione a favor...how does he persuade her? Bwahaha leaving it open ended for ya :)_

And now the reminder from my barrister that I don't own copyright or IP for Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny or even Grimmauld Place. I do own a table for eating on. That'll suffice for today. -_DG_

* * *

"Hermione, can you help me?"

"Hmmm?"

She turned from the washing in the sink. Ron was sitting at the table in the kitchen in Grimmauld Place, books spread out all around him. He was studying for his first qualifications to become an apprentice Auror.

"I don't understand something. I need your help."

"I'm not doing your work for you, Ronald."

"I'm not asking that, Hermione. I know you can't help me when I take the test but I don't get this passage of notes and it doesn't make a lick of sense to me."

"Can you not read your own handwriting?"

Ron ran his hand across the back of his neck and mumbled into his notes.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you?"

He looked up. "I didn't take careful notes 'cause I had just gotten a letter from you and I was focused on that instead of taking notes."

"Honestly, Ron, my letters can wait while you're listening to the Senior Auror."

"But I missed you. I hadn't seen you in weeks. That letter was the only thing keeping me from going barmy."

He turned his sad eyed puppy look on her – the one that always made her melt and give in to anything he asked of her. "Fine then, hand me the book and the notes and I'll see if I can teach you, **this one time!"**

He sat up straight on the bench and offered her a sincere look of abject devotion at her teaching moment. He shoved the book and his atrocious notes to her. Within seconds, she was turning the pages of the Auror manual and looking at the scribbles on his parchment.

Ron sighed happily since Hermione could decipher his dragon scratch. Years of practice made his illegible scribbles seem like the finest script to his girlfriend. _Thank Merlin I've got a brilliant witch of a girlfriend._

While she devoured the knowledge before her, he tucked into the pudding on the table: slices of chocolate cake his Mum sent over earlier in the day. While Hermione studied, he ate and watched her learn voraciously, much like his eating.

_Good thing she devours me on those occasions like she does her studies._

Hermione closed the book and looked at him.

"Are you ready to learn what you missed in those notes?"

Ron wiped the chocolate frosting from his mouth and nodded enthusiastically. "But first, this favor will have some benefits for me, too."

"Anything. I have my exam on Monday. This will be on it, I know it."

A cheeky yet menacing grin crept across her face. "We'll discuss your payment later, then, since I know you'll be good for it. I don't think you'll mind too terribly much."

Ron choked back the bezor in his throat.

"Now, we need to discuss your lesson and notes. Do you have your wand handy?"

Ron pulled his wand from the pocket on his trousers.

"Good, but you won't need it for this."

Ron frowned.

Hermione stood up and pulled the black walnut wand from her concealed holster on her left arm. One non-verbal spell later and she was disillusioned.

"Hermione, where'd you go?"

Ron heard the door squelch behind him.

"Hermione, this isn't funny."

Delicate lips kissed his neck and a gentle bite there too.

"But the lesson and notes are on stealth and concealment. Give me ten seconds and then try to find me."

He felt something pass by his ear and he swatted at it. He pulled back what felt like was saliva, where Hermione had bit his earlobe.

"Damn it, this isn't how the lesson went."

He stood up and felt a sting on his bum. He rubbed it. "Oh now you're getting cheeky, witch."

Ron turned and flashed his wand, thinking disarming spell without it crossing his lips. Nothing happened on the doorjamb. But he felt a swat on his back. He turned again and tried the same spell, aiming at the bench behind him. Nothing happened again.

Minutes passes and he grew weary playing magical hide and seek with Hermione in the kitchen. Each time he felt something, whether a spell just passing his skin or a whisper of a charm land softly on him, he tried to deduce where she was hiding in the kitchen. He'd already spelled each inch of the countertops and even checked in the cabinets themselves.

He tried everything he could to find Hermione in the kitchen.

"You're not going to beat me, Hermione, not at my own game."

They continued their cat and mouse game, each time him trying a new tactic to find her in the kitchen. With her prodigious magical skills and knowledge he was up against a worthy adversary. Every spell he tried failed to deduce where she was.

They continued to practice and play for minutes, slowly turning close to an hour.

A noise under the table made him spin and utter the one she used on Neville all those years ago. A hard thud was all he heard.

"Gotcha!"

He waved his wand under the table and there she was, keeled over and frozen from the spell he uttered. A quick flick and she was released from the charm.

"That was bloody brilliant, hiding under there. I don't know how you managed to do so much for so long."

"Who says I was hiding under there the whole time? I was apparating from spot to spot after each attack."

Ron's jaw dropped. "You're fucking kidding. That's brilliant."

"You said it yourself, in your own notes: don't play the game on conventional rules. It's not a Queen's test, like Cricket. It's catching a bad wizard. You can't fight on his terms."

Ron pushed the bench out of the way and pulled her up to her feet. His lips found hers immediately. She was happy to reciprocate.

"Bloody hell, don't the two of you do anything else but snog?"

They broke apart slightly to see Harry and Ginny standing in the doorway. Mirth was on her face while Harry was mortified once again. "Sorry Harry. Hermione was teaching me stealth and evasive tactics. I've got my quals on Monday for it so I can get to be where you are."

"Yeah, right, and I'm Victor Krum. Come on, let's go grab takeaway. I don't know about you two, but we're famished."

The two couples grabbed their jackets from the front hallway and left Grimmauld Place. While Harry and Ginny took the lead, Ron and Hermione stayed a step or two behind.

"When I have the practical, I'm going to have to use that. Thanks!"

She squeezed his hand while they walked to the corner and towards his future.


	5. Stood Up

**A/N: ** My thanks to Coyotelaughingsoftly for the brainstorming today when I wasn't happy with the finish. Now I am.

A/N2: My solicitor is withholding butterbeers unless I mention that I don't own copyright or IP for Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, or even Ron's Tom Ford slacks that Hermione found on sale. I do own a haggard housecoat in Stewart Plaid that I've had for years. - DG

* * *

_Tap Tap Tap_

Quiet nights like these aggravated the fire out of her. Hermione put the quill down on the table and picked her book up for the seventh time this evening.

Hermione plucked at her red silky robe and called tonight a lost cause. 8 pm after the shop closed was one thing, but past eleven on a Friday night was unspeakably rude, especially from him. Earlier this week, he'd promised to be home early, so they could have some private quality time. He'd promise her anything once she'd finished giving him one on one attention in a dark corner of the Auror cold case file room.

Ron should have been home three hours ago, having said he was stopping at the Leaky Cauldron with Harry before returning home. Harry had a Portkey for Barcelona, for the weekend. Ginny was abroad with the team so the house was for their benefit for the weekend. She knew he was busy tomorrow and Sunday morning he'd promised his Mum he'd come over first thing and work with Bill to rebuild the property lines out along the orchard.

_Seems he forgot the part about promising a leg over tonight._

Hermione closed the book on the table and made the decision to change and go to bed.

_Ron'll just have to wait until we find another hour next weekend._

Hermione took the book with her and ascended all of the steps to their bedroom, up on the second floor of the shared brownstone. Each step up reminded her that she was cranky. Ron'd been busy this week and barely had time to kiss her in the morning before having to run off for his shift at 7am. Throw in his hours with George most evenings, and he'd not get home before 9pm.

His workload did nothing to help grow and nurture their relationship at the moment. The only thing that kept her from blowing her lid completely was that he'd asked her if she supported what he was trying to do. They were on the same page when it came to plans for the future. But living in London took plenty of galleons to not live hand to mouth.

Academically, it made sense. She'd been out of Hogwarts for almost nine months and between the two of them saving their galleons, they were close to having a deposit on a flat in the area. She understood and respected Ron's viewpoint that he wanted plenty of galleons in the vault before they moved out. Sure, they could live rent free with Harry the rest of their lives if they so wanted but they desired their own life as well.

But they were stretched so thin on their relationship that what little time they had together was spent in the company of friends and family that they had precious quality time, just for themselves. It'd been weeks since they had a cuddle on the couch, just the two of them. The only times recently they'd had for sex were stolen moments on Sunday at his parent's house during Sunday brunch.

She sighed on the first landing before trudging up the third flight to their bedroom.

_Doesn't he understand that I need him too? I need his company, discussing what happens in my job, not just his. I need his hands in mine, kissing me softly, reminding me how much he loves me. I need him in our bed, doing more than just snoring in my ears every night._

Hermione sniffed. _It was supposed to be better than this._

Hermione pushed open the door to their room and went to the closet. She hung up the red robe that drove Ron barmy every time she wore it. She pulled off the slightly uncomfortable undergarments she wore when she expected in them a short time, not four hours of wear.

She turned and pulled on the vest she preferred, along with getting the long sleeved t-shirt and jumper. She'd shrug into them once she was finished in the toilet for her evening routine. Hermione opened another drawer and fished out some very warm wool knee socks, sensible knickers and sleep trousers. She slid into the underpants and threw on the very warm housecoat with the bundle of additional clothes in her arms.

She padded across the hardwood of their room to the bathroom across the hall. She had every intention of washing the rubbish off her face and scrubbing her teeth before bed.

She heard him as she was putting cleansing soap onto the flannel in her hand. "Hermione, I'm home," he bellowed up the stairwell.

Hermione shook her head and continued with her bathroom routine before bed. _He missed his chance._

"'ermione, 'ere are you?" Ron slurred.

"Merlin, he's pissed. Brilliant,"she thought sarcastically.

She heard heavy footfalls on the stairs, followed by a resonant crash into a wall. He giggled and continued the journey up the stairs while sounding like a flock of Hippogriffs.

Hermione finished applying the cold crème to her face. Next up was the cherry blossom lotion on her neck, along with across her burn-scarred chest and down her arms, including over the healed carving on her arm.

"'ermione, quit hiding. I'm too far gone to play hide and seek."

She lifted a slim leg and started applying the lotion to her legs.

The door slammed open and crashed right back into Ron's nose. "Bugger that hurt."

Hermione snorted. "Serves you right, slamming it open like a troll."

Hermione finished with the lotion and worked to slide the wool knee socks on. On the other side of the door Ron uttered various epithets and curses for his currently hurting nose.

Ron pushed open the door a second time, this time rubbing his nose melodramatically. Hermione turned and glared at her boyfriend. He was obviously pissed. His face was flushed and his eyes were bloodshot. She was also doing everything possible to ignore the aroma of too much Firewhiskey on his breath.

"It hit my bits, too. Come kiss it and make it better."

Hermione stood there glaring at her boyfriend. He looked at her with a lopsided grin on his face. When she didn't move immediately like he expected, he expression changed to lost puppy eyes.

"You're not playful tonight. What's crawled up your arse?"

Hermione ignored his drunken slur and proceeded to turn her back to him and dress in the warmer clothes she'd need and want tonight. She slid on the flannel sleep trousers and then reached for the t-shirt.

"Didn't you hear me?"

She continued to dress with her back to him with the intention of showing him that he wasn't getting into her knickers tonight or for the foreseeable future. Once her jumper was on, she wrapped herself into the housecoat.

Only then did she turn and address her inebriated boyfriend. "Oh, I heard you clearly. I chose to not do a thing to help you tonight. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed."

"Bed? But I just got home. Don't you want to shag me? Isn't that what Friday nights are for?"

Hermione stopped in the hallway and turned around on her boyfriend so fast he stumbled back into the bathroom.

"No, Ronald Weasley, you arse. Three hours ago, I wanted to shag you." Hermione put a digit in his chest and pushed. "Two hours ago, I might have even considered getting a leg over the dining room table. I certainly was dressed for it. But no, you stood me up tonight, out getting pissed with whomever tonight, completely forgetting I was home waiting for you. So I have absolutely no intention of touching you tonight, much less the rest of the weekend." She spun again and walked into their bedroom, slamming the door once again.

She silently counted down. Ron rarely let her slide from slamming the door in the face, much less passing up on the opportunity for a shag. But she was righteously upset tonight and felt the need to make her mind known. His tardiness and lack of communication tonight was unacceptable. Auror missions were one thing but what he did tonight demanded correction.

The door slammed open and Ron stepped in looking Auror fierce. His robes were thrown open, along with his jacket, showing the dress shirt and tie she picked for him this morning. "You're being barmy," he growled before kicking the door closed behind him. He pulled his wand and locked and silenced the door behind him.

"Oh that's rich since we're home alone this weekend."

Ron shrugged out of the robes and jacket and left them on the floor behind him. "Answer me. What is wrong with you tonight?"

"What's wrong with me? Nothing 'cept you promised me Tuesday we'd have some time for us tonight. And I quote: _I'll come straight home Friday night, just the two of us since Harry's going to see Ginny. We'll grab takeaway and have a night in._

"Did you conveniently forget that promise you made to me?"

Ron stopped pulling the bottom button of his dress shirt. "Fuck, I did, didn't I? I cocked it up."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You most certainly did."

She ripped back the bedclothes on the bed and crawled in. "Let me know next time you decide that spending our date time with your friends, getting pissed in a pub, is more important than what you told me you were going to do. I'd have not put on your favorite red number and waited in the cold of the kitchen for three hours for you."

Hermione pulled her wand from the pocket and extinguished the lights in their room.

"And you're working for George all day tomorrow, like you promised, as well as helping your Mum early Sunday morning. Your choice to get pissed at the pub means we don't have any time for us this weekend."

"Hermione, it's still Friday night. We've got time for a fuck."

Hermione rolled over into the cold bedclothes.

"There's tomorrow night when I get off work. You can meet me at the shop and we can go out."

"I can't Ron. I'm going out to dinner with my parents tomorrow evening, remember? I've had that planned for two weeks now."

Hermione heard some rustling in the darkness. She knew he was stripping down to his pants so he could cuddle into bed with her. She was still angry as a charging hippogriff with him but he could be extraordinarily convincing when he used his charms and wiles on her.

The mattress sank under his surprising girth before he turned to snuggle into the bedclothes behind her. One long arm wrapped around her warm attire. She was still upset with her boyfriend but the ache of missing him so much during the week dampened any ferocity in her attitude with him.

"I know I fucked up. Harry and I went to the Leaky for a pint and then George walked in. It was the first time he's come in there since Fred –"

"No, I get it. I really do. I'm not asking you to choose between me and your family. But an owl or note or something would be nice, I reckon. I could have done something that sitting in my lingerie for three hours waiting on you."

Ron nuzzled his nose into her hair. She knew it was a matter of moments before he would try nibbling on her ears and neck.

"Did you hang the clothes up?"

"No. I wanted to be in bed with you."

"Honestly!"

Hermione shrugged out of the warmth of the covers and grabbed her wand from the side table. _Lumos!_ She thought and the wand lit brightly. Sure enough, Ron had left his clothes in the middle of the floor for someone to trip over.

She laid the wand on the end of the dresser and proceeded to pick up his nice work clothes and put them in the hamper. The last article was his trousers – black and almost tailored to his long and lean torso. Out of habit, she checked the pockets for galleons and other rubbish he stuffed in them daily.

In there were custard crème wrappers, a chocolate frog card, and a slip of parchment with his hasty handwriting on it. She scanned the information quickly. Each line on the scrap made her eyebrows crawl up her head. _Already? He's not hinted or said anything to me about this!_

Hermione glanced over and the bed and heard her boyfriend snoring lightly already. "Figures he's fall asleep on me. He can't hold his whiskey like George can."

She put the rubbish from his pockets in his dish on the dresser and finished tidying the room. Once accomplished, she would be able to sleep with him surrounding her in the bed. She crept back to the bed before shirking the housecoat she'd been in. Now that Ron was home, she'd sleep just warm enough to be comfortable.

She settled back into the covers and wiggled her body back up to next to him. He lifted his arm and she found her spot again in his arms.

"I didn't want to stand you up, Hermione."

She turned her head just so, giving him room to kiss her neck.

"But George, he wanted to talk. Hannah brought us a bottle and before –"

"Shhh. It's OK. I'm not mad anymore."

"Really?"

"I reckon I can come second to George."

"It won't happen again."

Hermione rolled in his drunken stupor arms and kissed him languidly. She saw he was truly sorry for making a muck of the evening. Guilt showed out of his beautiful blue eyes. "Rubbish. Just tell me next time or tell Hannah to tell me."

Ron nodded and put his head back down on the pillow. Within a moment, he was snoring.

Hermione smiled before extinguishing her wand and putting it under her pillow.

_You don't have to choose, Ron. We chose each other years ago. You're worth marrying, even if you stood me up for good reason tonight._


	6. Wagon Wheels

A/N: Written for Coyotelaughingsoftly who offered me the prompt on this chapter. - _DG_

* * *

Hermione finished packing the basket for their picnic out in the Orchard. Almost everyone was out of the house at the moment, save Molly and Fleur. They were working upstairs cleaning George's room while he was in London with Percy and Charlie. Every so often, there would be a crash and some yelling – and then it would go silent once again.

Ron moped around the house until Molly turned her ire on him then get shirty with her later for his silence with his Mum. Hermione understood even if she was the focus of much of Molly's ire too.

She grabbed the packet of Wagon Wheels from the second shelf in the kitchen and tossed them on top of the roast beef sandwiches, bottles of butterbeer and the small container of fruit salad for her. Packed further into the basket was 2 ham sandwiches as well. He'd been working outside all morning and she knew he'd be famished.

She stood there a moment to recount that she took the vial of vile potion this morning. She loved Ron dearly but she wasn't ready to be a Mum at 19. She also didn't think he was ready to be a Daddy at 18 either.

One last check of the basket for napkins and mustard and she left the kitchen. She stepped out and saw Ron working on the edge of the garden, tossing gnomes over the fence into the marshy sides of the pond.

Hermione rolled her eyes before getting bossy. "Please tell me you're not resorting to drowning the gnomes now?"

Ron turned around and Hermione sucked in a large breath of air. He was slightly red from working outside with his shirt off and his trousers sat low on his hips, showing the band of the new pants she bought for him last week.

"Nope. They're getting a mudbath. I can't toss'em far 'nough to get them into the pond. They land in the marshy edge. Just wet enough for a bath but not so far to drown them."

"Don't they get hurt?"

"Nah. Just irritated at getting a summer bath."

Hermione held up the basket in her hand. "Ready for lunch?"

"Brilliant!" he yelled back before picking up his shirt from the ground. He threw it over his head before walking over and planting a not-so-chase kiss on her lips. "Food and some fun?"

"We'll see about the fun after you eat. You're also red from being out in the sun too much already."

They started walking to their preferred spot in the orchard. It was out of line-of-sight from the house but close enough that if something happened Ron could be in the house in two minutes. They mutually agreed to it since Mum was still barmy at times if she couldn't account for them immediately.

"Got the blanket?" Ron quietly inquired. Hermione shrugged her shoulder and showed the bloody beaded bag on her hip. "You're never going to part with that thing, are you?"

Hermione gave him a sideways glance. "I might get a newer one but do the same work on it. But I don't think I will ever be without it again." She sighed and squeezed his hand. "Maybe one day I will but it's not today and probably not tomorrow either."

"We'll get there, somehow."

Hermione smiled and they continued their walk to the patch under the last apple tree in the orchard.

She stood back while Ron laid it out for them and she in turn unpacked the basket full of tasty morsels for him to eat. Sure enough, he tore open the packet of wagon wheels and scarfed them down before she could pull out the chilled butterbeer bottles. "Hey, save some for me!"

Ron grimaced. "'orry. Was hungry. I'll get you a packet from the house when we get back."

"That was the last packet."

"oh. Maybe Mum'll be up to whip up some pudding later."

"Don't ask Mum about that. She was in a strop this morning while cleaning George's room with Fleur."

"Oh."

Hermione reached into the basket and pulled out the sandwiches she made for him. "I packed roast beef and cheese sandwiches along with ham and cheese for you, all of them on Ginny's baked bread. I've also got butterbeer for you and a couple of slices of chocolate cake."

"What are you eating?"

Hermione pulled a small bowl from the bottom of the basket. "Just a small cup of fruit salad."

"Hermione, that's not a lunch. That's a snack before lunch."

"Ron, I'm not hungry. Really. And I am eating. You saw me eating bread this morning with butter and I had a cup of tea."

Ron took her hand and put it in his own. "If mum was being her usual self, he'd have dragged you to London to see a healer 'cause you're still entirely too thin."

"And you're not? You've not put on too much weight since we came home from Australia two weeks ago."

"At least I'm eating. That," he waved at the desert bowl in her lap, "that's not eating right. Get Fleur to make you something this evening. You know she will if you ask."

Hermione returned the bowl back to the blanket before handing him a sandwich. Once he had it safely in hand she turned back to her bowl of fruit.

"Please eat something more than just that bowl of fruit."

She picked up a piece of apple from the bowl and bit in, to demonstrate her eating something. He sighed before taking a large bite of his roast beef sandwich.

He then promptly spit it back out, all over her borrowed jumper.

"RON!"

He looked at the sandwich. "Bloody Hell! It tastes just like Corned beef! I can't stand Corned Beef."

"Ron, it's roast beef. I sliced it myself in the kitchen." Hermione was at a loss as to what was going on. "Here, then, eat the ham sandwich. I cut it myself too."

She handed over the second sandwich and Ron took a tentative bite. He spit that one back out as well, this time avoiding Hermione while she cleaned up the front of her clothes. "Bloody hell, it's corned beef too."

"Impossible. Look at them both."

Ron opened both sandwiches and compared the slices of meat on the inside. "What's going on? It's Mum's ham and roast beef. What gives?"

They both looked at one another, befuddled before Ron's expression turned to abject horror.

"Hermione, hand me the glass of butterbeer, please."

She opened a top and handed him the chilled beverage. He took a sip and spit it out too. "Damn it George!"

"George? What has George got to do with this?"

Ron reached over and picked up the packet for the Wagon Wheels. "I thought you got this for you and had it stashed in Mum's cabinet."

"No, I thought she got it for you so I grabbed it from the shelf. But you like biscuits."

Ron looked closely at the package and his eyes turned murderous. "I'm going to kill that prat," he growled under his voice.

"What are you on about, Ronald?"

He handed over the plastic wrapping to her. "Read the back of the packaging."

_**Wagon Wheezes – guaranteed to make a meal a disaster. For women who really want out of a bad date and don't want to look like a bint. One bite of biscuit and nothing will taste right. Everything tasted will be the food you despise the worst. Handle with care.**_

"Read the warning label."

Hermione scanned the label further until she got to the bottom.

_Warning: Two biscuits maximum. Effects multiply if wholly consumed. If ingested in entirety, purchase one bottle of Weasley's Noxious Neutralizer for immediate care or wait 24 hours for the effects to wear off._

Hermione turned back to Ron. "You ate the entire package, didn't you?"

Ron's face was a shade of red that Hermione rarely saw. "I'm going to kill George. He was by this morning before going to work. I bet he planted it in the cabinet, knowing you'd get it for me."

"And you mentioned the picnic, didn't you?"

Ron nodded sheepishly. "Well, we can tell him it worked."

Hermione sat up on her knees and promptly sat on his lap. "Well, before we go by the shop, I should make things a little better for you, since I was the one who packed them in the basket without checking."

"I ate them. I didn't force you to feed me them."

Hermione worked on the top of his shirt, running her finger across his slightly stubble crusted jawline.

"I'll know to check from now on."

Ron leaned over and kissed her, offering a promise for more.

"We'll get him back someday. You watch."

Hermione smiled right next to his lips. "Yes I will."


	7. Revlusion

**A/N:** Rated T for Ron's coarse language. But then, what else is new? Oh, and my Barrister asked that I remind everyone I'm not Jo, I don't own copyright or IP for HP or GP or any other initials I can think of. - _DG_

* * *

"Harry, I swear on my wand that if you planned this, I'm beating your arse, without magic."

Harry stood in the doorway to the locker room. His chuckles echoed into the squad room and back into the locker room. "Honestly, Ron, you look rather fetching, really."

"Now you're taking the piss. This is just so wrong. Why did this happen to me? I hate the slimy git."

Ron tugged at the new features he reflected in the mirror.

"It's not like any of us know which role we have for this training mission. But now that you know who you are in it, you know what needs to happen."

"Muck-manged twit." Ron complained under his breath. "Bastard deserved a broken nose."

"What's that? I couldn't hear you."

"**Aurors, 10 minutes to deployment**," Gawain Robard's voice boomed through the department.

"Ron, that's our cue. We've got to go."

Ron stepped out from the sink and Harry saw the blonde man's features. The dishwater blonde hair, the slightly out of date robes, and the less than friendly sneer looked appropriate on Ron for the training mission today. He smiled at the less-than-professionally healed nose on his face.

They walked quickly to the deployment room. Five Aurors were picked to play the bad guys into today's training mission. They were going to Cambria, away from people this time, and testing out Neville Longbottom's enhancement on polyjuice potion. He'd perfected it three months ago, adding an additional ingredient to the mix. What he used was being kept top secret by the directorship until it was proven in the field. Today was the first mission for the men.

"But why me?" Ron muttered in the back of the gathering. "I look like a stuffy ponce."

"I picked you personally, Weasley, because of your top marks in training the last 3 months." Robards gave him a withering look. "You've also got terrific scores in stealth and concealment and tactics. I'm an old bugger but even I know when we need to adapt and change. So quit your bitchin' today and let's get out there and see what happens.

"Five minutes, men!"

Harry turned to Ron standing next to him. "It's not permanent. It's all of 4 hours total."

"Hermione's not going to be happy with me when she sees me like this."

"Hell, I'm not happy to see you like this either. But who told you that life of an Auror was comfortable, easy, and fair? That wasn't in my instruction manual." Harry smirked. "Maybe you got the Prince's amended version, with notes attached."

Ron shoved Harry for his quip about an old dusty book. "Git."

"Ponce."

"One minute, gentlemen!"

They pulled their wands and muttered _Portus_. Moments later, their wands turned blue and they were off to Cumbria and their training mission.

* * *

Ron stepped into the foyer of Grimmauld Place. He tossed his robes over the cloak stand next to the door before turned to the quiet house. "Hermione, I'm home."

Hermione stepped out from the doors to the downstairs kitchen and pulled her wand instantly on him. "You've got three seconds before I blow you out those front doors!"

Ron stared down the black walnut wand in her hands and raised his in supplication. "Hermione, It's Ron. I'm under Polyjuice."

"Prove it."

"You have four copies of _Hogwarts, A History_ on your bookshelf upstairs."

Her hand shook slightly but her eyes were still fierce. "One more."

"I put a bite mark on your inner thigh this morning before you left for work."

Hermione dropped her wand and turned her back on Ron.

"Wait, come back!" Ron ran after her into the kitchen. "What's wrong?"

Hermione stopped over the sink and continued to breathe heavily. He stood watching her try to compose her features. "Bugger, I knew looking like that twat before I came home was a bad idea."

Hermione turned and he saw how upset she was, no matter how composed her features were. Ron took a step closer and Hermione took two steps back. "What's going on, Hermione? I'm not this arsehole, that's for certain."

"Until you change back into the man that I love, I'm not getting anywhere near you."

"You're barking. I only want to show you that I missed you."

"And you will, enthusiastically, but not with the face you're wearing right now. It's loathsome."

"Why are you mad at me about this? It's not like I had a choice in the matter. Director Robards picked me for the assignment personally. I didn't know that Auror Williamson slipped some of this right foul git's hair into the potion so I'd look like the sodding bastard."

"It's not funny." Hermione leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms. Ron gave up trying to fix the problem and sat down at the table.

"You're right. It's hardly funny. I can't stand him and being in his skin is like wallowing in dragon dung."

"Now you know how I felt."

Ron turned and saw anguish on her face. "I don't follow."

"The day I had to go under Polyjuice as Bellatrix was the worst. Not because I had to wear that monster's skin or carry her wand, but the look of revulsion on your face when you first saw me. It hurt, terribly, and I wasn't going to tell you. But seeing you looking like him," she waved in his general direction, "it reminds me, rather vividly, of that day and how bad it was."

"So taking advantage of me while I look like this is right out?"

"Why would you even joke about something like this? I have nothing but revulsion for the craven bastard now."

"Hermione, did you just – "

"Yes, I did, because sometimes those words are the only ones that convey the depth of what I feel."

Hermione sat down across from Ron. She refused to reach her hands out to him, content to keep them in her lap. She wouldn't even look at him, staring at the tabletop in front of his hands.

"But this is an opportunity you're missing out. The girls in the office – "

Hermione looked up and glared pure hatred at the face in front of her. "The girls in the office are easily fooled by slick words and pretty robes. They've not been humiliated by the mean boy, or seen him stand aside when you're being hurt. They've not saved his life and then watched when he tried to betray his saviors almost immediately. Frankly, if they want to sidle up to him in an attempt to get him to notice, that's fine by me. He's the next to last person I'd ever consider snogging, much less shagging."

"Who's the last one?"

"Harry."

"Ewww. The thought of them even – "

"And now you understand why neither one of them are the one I'm madly in love with."

Ron changed his expression and decided to play a little with the ferret skin he was in. "Weasley, huh? That poor bloke who gets his socks from a charity shop? You fell for that homely git?"

Hermione searched his features and deduced the mirth in his words. A quick smirk and she returned to her hard features. "That homely git, as you refer to the love of my life, is ten times the man you wish you could be, Malfoy. Broke can be fixed easily, but he's hardly poor in the things that matter. You, on the other hand, disgust me."

"Weasley has nothing he can offer you."

"He doesn't need to. He's proven, time and time again, that he's whom I want and need by my side. So go stuff yourself in a rubbish bin. You'll not interest me with your pretty words and fancy robes. I know the cowardly bastard you are under it all."

"You know you want me. My estates up in Wiltshire – "

"Mean less than nothing to me, Malfoy. I know the disgusting ferret you are under your pretty robes. What matters to me are things you'll never possess – duty, loyalty, courage, and especially friendship. Ron Weasley is the man you never will be. That's why I'm with him."

Hermione got up from the bench she had been sitting on and stood at the counter before turning her head back to the man sitting there.

"And I won't even get into telling you what he does for me personally. I look at your face and am reminded of how much of a bully you are. You are a selfish, craven bully who hides behind his father's robes because he refuses to stand up for anything, or anyone, who isn't like him." A fire lit in Hermione's eyes. "You disgust me, hiding under expensive tailored robes and fancy airs. You're still a arse and a coward. You sit there under airs but I feel nothing but revulsion for you."

Ron felt the first sign of changes starting to bubble under his skin.

"Sure you don't want a leg over, for old time's sake?" He winked lasciviously.

Hermione snorted in disgust. "I know what you have under those robes, Malfoy. Frankly, you're half the man Ron Weasley is. You have nothing, physically, to offer me."

Hermione stood up from the table and stomped off to the pantry downstairs.

Ron felt the skin changing first. He was glad to be finally rid of the slimy git for skin and back into his own ginger hair and scars down his arms. He watched his hands grow freckles while his fingers grew longer. He ran his fingers through his hair and saw the ginger fringe he wore along with the soft hairs on his face from forgetting to shave this morning.

"Ow, bugger, shite!" He reached down and took off the now painfully small shoes he was forced to wear earlier. He quickly yanked them off his size 12 feet and felt instant relief. But then he saw the inches of pale ankle from the trousers now being 2 inches too short for his terribly long legs.

"Ron?" Hermione came rushing back in the room with provisions down in the basement. She skidded to a halt and smiled for the first time she he returned home.

He winked before pushing the bench back and standing for her. "Bet you missed this face, didn't you?"

Hermione put the keg of butterbeer down on the table and stood next to him. "Now this is the face of the man that I love."

Ron wrapped his long arms around his girlfriend. "I didn't know you loathed the bugger as much as I do."

Hermione stood up on her toes and planted a heated kiss on his lips. "No more Malfoy for the rest of day, yeah?" She pulled his face back to nibble on his bottom lip.

Ron ran his hands down her lean frame and found a soft place for his sizeable hands, squeezing comfortable clothed flesh in them. "I need a shower after looking like that git. Fancy one with me?"

Hermione snuggled into his arms. "Doors locked up?"

"I did as soon as I stepped into the house."

"Hold tight and I'll apparated us into our bathroom."

Ron was kissing the top of Hermione's head when she apparated them into the shower two floors above their head.

"Do you feel better, having said all of that downstairs?"

Hermione looked up at the cerulean eyes she loved and adored. "As a matter of fact, I do. I didn't know I had that stuffed inside my head until you showed up looking like that."

"You've earned the right to say it. I'm glad I got to hear it."

"Maybe someday I'll tell Malfoy – "

Ron put a long digit across her lips. "Don't mention the ferret again, yeah?"

Hermione kissed his finger salaciously. "Yes, Ronald."


	8. Stinky

Prompt: Ron's on an unexpected auror mission and gets minor injuries. Hermione goes crazy thinking he's seriously injury. Young rose and Hugo could be there too? Can you tell I'm liking fluff and family romione at the moment

* * *

Ron was washing the dishes in the sink. Dinner had been better than usual. Hermione cooked pot roast and veggies for dinner for them tonight and for once it was almost like how Mum made it. So while she was tending Rose to her bed and getting Hugo from his crib, Ron was tidying the kitchen. The nights he cooked, she cleaned. That had been their arrangement since she finished school, so many years ago.

Ron felt it first, the wiggling in his pocket, seconds before Harry's stag popped into the room.

"Ron! Auror All-call. Code Red. Emergency portkey in 2 minutes. We're going to Northumberland."

"Shit!" Ron wiped his hands on his sleep trousers and raced for his closet to throw on his work trousers, jumper, and boots.

Hermione walked into the room with three month old Hugo on her hip. He was sucking on her thumb until she could get him settled into dinner.

"Ron, where are you going? It's ten o'clock at night."

"It's an Auror All-call. I have to go."

"But you're an instructor, not a full-fledged Auror now."

He pulled the zips on his boots before shrugging into his all-black wool jumper. "Doesn't matter on an All-call. All Aurors who are not retired are required to go." He reached into the closet and slid into his dragon skin jacket and pulled the wool beanie onto his head. He kissed her and kissed Hugo on his cheek. "I dunno when I'll be back."

Hermione pulled him back for a passionate kiss. "Come back to me," she whispered across the front of his lips

"I will," he replied back just as softly.

Ron pulled his wand from his trousers and uttered _Portus_ to make his wand the Auror emergency Portkey. The wand turned blue and he was yanked out of their den and into danger once again.

Hugo started wailing, startled from Daddy disappearing right before his very eyes. "Shhhh, Hugo. Daddy's going out to help people. It's OK. He'll come back to us shortly."

Hermioine juggled him from her hip to her shoulder, trying to keep his startled wailing down so he wouldn't wake Rose who had just fallen asleep a little while earlier. They settled into the couch and she started him on his late evening routine, nursing for his last feeding of the night before tucking him back into bed at 11.

While Hugo nursed, Hermione let her mind wander and the worry for her husband built quickly into anxiety and those dark thoughts overwhelmed her. Before Hugo fell asleep attached to her breast, she was quietly sobbing for his return.

Hugo would wake again at 3am for another meal but maybe by then, Ron would have returned home to them.

* * *

Hermione woke with a start. She turned to the illuminated clock on her bedside table and saw it was half 1 in the morning. Another thud from the den told her Ron was finally home.

She pulled back the bedclothes and put on her slippers and housecoat. With her wand in hand she opened the door to their bedroom and walked silently down the stairs to the den. The lights were on and Ron's boots were at the foot of the stairs.

Small spots dotted the floor.

_Lumos. _

Blood was on the front hallway floor. A trail went into the kitchen. Hermione followed it, with her wand at the ready, when she saw Ron leaning over the sink washing his face. "Ron?"

He turned and she gasped in horror. His face was still covered in blood, along with his hands and the front of his jumper. His eyes were both darkened as well, like he had been punched in the nose.

She shrieked and ran to him, running her hands over his gory face. "You're hurt!"

Ron grabbed her hands and pulled them back from his face. "I'm fine. It's only a small laceration on my scalp. See?" He let go of her hands and pulled back the fringe to show her the gash on his scalp.

"That's not small. That's four inches at least."

Ron smirked.

"Oh stop it. You look dreadful." Hermione broke a smile before she plucked the flannel from his hands and started working on cleaning his face. Under the blood and dirt and grime was his pale face, darkened eyes and a mess on his jumper and in his hair. "What happened?"

"It was a necessary all-call. A werewolf got out of his sanctuary room and was terrorizing a small village up in Northumberland. I know the bugger couldn't help it but we were called in to assist."

Hermione gasped and quit washing his face when he mentioned the situation. "Please tell me you didn't hurt the poor person."

"No, dear, thankfully. It took all of us to corner him and then we stunned him and got him to a safe place for the rest of the night. The A &amp; E healer administered some fast-acting wolfsbane potion and a sleeping draught. When I left he was a snoring werewolf in the confining chamber at the Bailiff's office. I'm sure I'll see the report when I get back to the office Monday morning."

Hermione went back to washing his face and neck with the flannel. "How'd you get hurt?"

"That's the funny part of the story, really. The Aurors had the order of stunners only, using it to corral him to a corner where we could capture him. Williamson was being a prat and accidently cast _Periculum_ and it hit me right on the head. Bugger felt terrible about it for hitting me practically in the face."

"But you were bleeding when you came home."

"Yeah, I reckon I was too busy protecting some kid who had run out of the cottage screaming for us to not hurt his papa. I picked the little one up and held him back while the rest stunned him and got him safe, from himself and us." Ron pulled Hermione's hand close to his face. "Lil' boy was about three or four, and fought like a fiend in my arms, screaming about not hurting his Daddy. Broke my heart but the kid was swinging his arms at me too. He hit me in the nose and that's why it was bleeding too. The healer fixed my nose but the mess was mine to get cleaned up."

"And the child? Was he hurt?"

"His mum ran out after him once her husband was down and thanked me for keeping her son safe. He was upset that Daddy was hurt and screamed we were hurting him. I calmed him down and told him that we were helping Daddy get to a safe place for the night."

"Daddy's home," a sleepy voice came from the doorway. They both turned and there stood Rose, holding Komodo, her hair sleep tussled and half-asleep.

Ron took two steps and scooped her up into his arms. She immediately latched onto his neck and held him tight. Seconds later, she pulled back from his jumper. "You stinky."

"Sorry Rosie. Daddy got messy helping people tonight." She wiggled and he let her down. "How about getting back into bed and I'll be in to tuck you in and read you a story."

"Sure Daddy," she said quietly before smiling and returning to the stairs. She toddled up them while Hermione kept watch as she ascended the short flight to her room.

Once Rose was back in her room, Ron turned back to his wife. "So I'm stinky now, huh?"

Hermione stepped into his waiting arms and scrunched her nose. "It's certainly not a draught of Amortentia, that's for certain, but I detect hints of you under the stench."

"Stench? I'm not that bad, am I?"

She looked up at his now cleaned face. "You've smelled better, and worse. Go on and get a shower and leave the robes in the loo and I'll wash them."

"And Rose?"

"I'll stay with her until you come read her the story."

"Sorted."

Ron took a step towards the stairs to their bedroom and stopped. He stepped back to his wife and embraced her once again, dropping kisses on her face and cheeks.

"What's wrong?"

"Will you stay awake for me, for a little while? I could use some company this morning."

Hermione pulled back and looked at her husband. "Is something troubling you?"

"Just thinking back to what happened that first night in the Shrieking shack. I just – "

Hermione stepped back into his arms and hugged him tight. "I understand. I'll wait up for you." She let go and went to Rose's room. She stopped at the second step. "I'll get Hugo a charmed dummy too so he'll sleep another couple of hours. You need me tonight, don't you?"

Ron nodded quietly.

"Then go get a shower. I'll be in shortly."


	9. Promises

**A/N:** I had already started this prompt when the Rita Skeeter article broke. So, here is this finished product that still is potentially Extended Universe possible canon. Take it with a 1g of salt and a lime flavored gillywater and call me next week if symptoms don't improve.

**Rated T** only because they mention shagging and the occasional coarse word from Ron Weasley.

**A/N2:** My barrister wanted me to remind everyone: I don't own copyright or IP for Ron and Hermione; The Grangers; or have a rental abode in Australia's Gold coast. I have an abode and a garden. That's dandy enough for me. - _DG_

* * *

_June, 1998_

Hermione put the kettle on for tea. That was about all she was good for.

The last 48 hours were a whirlwind that Hermione Granger couldn't even wrap her head around. She didn't expect champagne and cucumber sandwiches on her return with her parents. She did hope that there would be some forgiveness for her actions. Even Understanding would have been satisfactory.

It was the first Monday back at work for Monica and Wendell Wilkins at the Griffin University Dental clinic, on the Gold Coast of Australia. They were keeping the facade that Hermione foisted onto them that they took a year off from their practice in England and went abroad to work. Since it was reasonably close to the truth, it wasn't that difficult to maintain the lie.

Unfortunately, they were Robert and Jean Granger, at least at home. They also had a daughter that they were furious with.

They left together this morning, refusing to speak with her when they walked out the door. Two sets of dirty looks were debilitating enough.

Hermione hoped that once they had another day to wrap their heads around what their daughter did to them, and for them, they would be more at ease with the situation. Calm would be nice too.

Well, if you call screaming bloody murder at her calm, or at ease.

Her father wasn't that bad. She'd endured better silent treatment from Ron at school. His silence was almost welcome in comparison to Mum. Mum gave her the rough side of her anger every time she saw Hermione. It didn't matter if what she was saying was true, or accurate, or even factual. It was the obvious hurt that kept Hermione silent in the face of such brutal recriminations that were, for the most part, completely true.

Dad never intervened, like he would when Jean would get too irate at Hermione. That was what hurt the most: that he didn't step in to protect her. He was irate too, letting her feel the brunt of her mother's anger and he was using silence to wound her too.

Last night got to be entirely too much. Ron stepped in while Hermione fled to her room, enduring the berating for her. She heard the echoes of _breaking their trust_ and _using magic on them without their consent._

What stood out in echo in her mind was the accusation of _We don't know who you are anymore._

That was painfully accurate – that they didn't know their daughter anymore.

Hermione hid in the closet, weeping her soul to disrepair, until she fell asleep. She only stirred when Ron jostled her out of the closet and tucked her into bed.

'Ron,' Hermione said quietly. Ron had been nothing short of amazing these last few weeks.

Ron endured Mrs. Granger's tirade with nary a word, belittling their efforts in the attempt to keep them safe. He stood in her stead while Hermione retreated to her room, cowering in the far corner of the empty closet. Those tears were as bitter as they were the first night they had arrived.

A bitter laugh erupted from her chest. 'You really thought they'd forgive you for what you did? What are you, six again? This isn't you pitching a tantrum in the bookstore because they wouldn't let you have a book.'

She pulled the tea from the cabinet and found just the right amount for them. Next to the tea was the sugar bowl. Ron would rot his teeth from the amount of sugar he loved to heap into the piping hot beverage.

When Ron came up to their room, he found that she'd cried herself to sleep. He'd picked her up and gently tucked her into bed, keeping her company until she settled into a restless slumber.

But today he was being a selfish prat. Or it could be that she was being selfish, too. She wanted a leg over. Normally he had no qualms fulfilling her request. Once he got the first snog in, there was nothing that could hold him back. Those moments when she wasn't racked with guilt or feeling anxious about how to tell her parents what would have happened to them had they stayed in Hampstead Gardens. She had no idea how to convey to them that if she hadn't acted that way, in their best interests, she'd have been dealing with their funeral, not their anger.

Instead, her boyfriend was in her father's study listening to the Quidditch match. This morning, Quidditch won. And it wasn't even his beloved Chudley Cannons. It was a group match, between England and Japan, for the Quidditch World Cup.

He loved food, and he loved Quidditch. She knew she was somewhere on the list, but this morning, she wasn't the most important thing to him. Bacon sandwiches didn't coax him to turn his head.

Ron woke entirely too early for her tastes, at least this morning. She reached for him, hoping he would shag her silly so she could pass out in bliss for another few hours. He whispered to her that he was hoping to catch the match on the wireless he brought with him. She closed her weary eyes when he got out of bed. She heard him rustling around in the room, probably to put on sleep trousers and a jumper in the darkness of their room. But the exhaustion she felt pulled her back down into the bedclothes.

Ron kissed her on the forehead. Hermione fell back asleep.

When she did wake hours later, she did her absolutions in the bathroom, which included a teaspoonful from the bottle of prevention she brought with her. Molly insisted on it once Ron blurted out one night about them shagging. She accepted the bottle without retort, not telling her that Fleur taught her the charms the day after they first made love in his cramped bed.

Sure enough, she went downstairs and Ron was listening to the match. He didn't even acknowledge her existence when she said she was taking a Portkey back to London and shagging Neville in the Hogwarts Great Hall.

Ron was off in another place, listening to the match. Quidditch would be his companion, at least for today.

For the first time in months, Hermione was alone, at least emotionally.

Instead of whining at the injustice of her life, she was standing in her parent's kitchen making a kettle of tea and eventually cooking up breakfast for them. Ron wouldn't mind fried eggs and rashers and toast, since that was all there was in her parent's kitchen. Thankfully her parents had already left for the office so she could, without guilt, use magic to stifle the noxious smells of cooking Ron's breakfast.

Hermione pulled out a pot to make some porridge. It was the only breakfast food she could stomach.

Once the pans were on the stove and heating, she took Ron his cup of tea. He was still completely engrossed in the match, listening to the commentator remarking on the action. She put it down next to him on the side table and walked back to the kitchen.

The pans were ready and she started their breakfast.

* * *

"NO! Bloody hell no! You shite for brains flyer! Great Aunt Tessie could have flown better than you did! Argh!"

Ron threw himself on the back of the sofa and ran his hands through his hair. "I can't believe the bugger caught the snitch."

Ron opened his eyes and spied the covered plate in front of him, along with a cup of tea. He looked around Mr. Granger's study and Hermione was nowhere to be found. He checked his watch and saw it was half ten in the morning.

His stomach protested the lack of attention this morning. He'd been awake 7 ½ hours listening to the match.

He took a sip of the tea and realized it was tepid. 'When did she do this? How could I have ignored breakfast? How long has it been sitting here? Why didn't I see her come in?' Ron saw the napkin and the sheen of magic covering the plate. He pulled his wand from his trousers and removed the charm. The smells of a hot breakfast were instantly mouth-watering. He lifted the napkin and saw rashers and fried eggs, in abundance, on his plate. 'Could I have ignored her that much this morning?'

Ron berated himself for missing breakfast and his girlfriend while he tucked into his meal, devouring the four eggs and three rashers and 4 pieces of toast in a tick. "I could use another helping," he thought after draining the rest of his tea.

Ron took the plate with him to the kitchen and Hermione was nowhere to be found. "Hermione, where are you?" He rushed to wash his dishes and put it in the dry rack before racing upstairs to their bedroom. He opened the door and saw Hermione wasn't in their bedroom either.

He checked the loo. He checked the den. He even checked the kitchen to see if there was a note left for him, telling him that she ran away and joined a band of Aborigines.

Ron went back to the study and looked outside. He smiled when he spied her sitting outside, bundled up, reading a book. "Only Hermione would sit outside in the cold sunshine reading a book."

Ron hurried to make another pot of tea. He looked for the sugar for his cuppa and milk for hers.

Once the tea was made, he went outside with the kettle and the cups.

He stopped at the doorway for a moment to take the rustic scene in front of him in.

Her head was buried in a book, as usual, but she looked miniscule under the blanket on her legs and two jumpers over her torso. She looked reasonably comfortable reclining on the chaise lounge but she was also quite pale still. Ron could only guess at what she went through while he was gone, since she didn't talk about it yet, at least to him.

But her face had changed. It was obvious this morning, at least to his observant eyes, that she had lost weight. Her chin thrust out more. Her cheekbones were harsh on her face. The shadows under her eyes were dreadful. The hair he loved more than anything was still entirely too short for her, making it look bushier than usual.

They'd been through hell and somehow survived. Ron Weasley wasn't going to question their second chance at life.

Ron chuckled to himself before walking the extra ten feet to the table and laying down the tea service.

Hermione looked up and smiled. "Hi."

"Hi yourself. I looked all over for you."

"And here I am," she cheeked back.

Ron made her a cup, pouring just a touch of milk into her tea before handing it over.

"Oh that feels good on my hands. Thank you."

"Well, you did make breakfast."

"I thought you might have been hungry since you were awake so early. Is the match over?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah. The Seeker for Japan caught the snitch after the English one crashed his broom into a goalpost. They won by ten."

"How was breakfast?"

"I could have used seconds, but I'm fine."

Hermione smiled and took a sip of her tea.

"Listen, I know this morning, - "

"It's alright. You wanted to listen to the Quidditch match and I was being selfish. So, I let you have your time listening and I got things done. It's no big deal."

Ron sat back in his own chair. "No big deal? Shagging is a big deal. Bloody Hell Hermione! I waited years to get shag you rotten. No big deal? You're mental."

Hermione gave him the '**you must be kidding'** look. "Maybe I am, but hear me out."

Ron sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"This morning, Quidditch was more important to you. Yes, I was hurt for a brief moment that you wanted to listen to the match. But I realize you needed a break too, from everything that's happened. For a few hours, Quidditch was your world. You were enjoying yourself." Hermione sat further back in the chaise lounge. "That's why it's a big deal. You didn't have to care for me, or hold me while I cried, or move me around when I fell asleep where I was standing."

Hermione picked up the book in her lap and showed him the binding. "So, while you were enjoying yourself listening to the match, I cooked breakfast, washed our clothes, straightened our bedroom, and was able to get some reading done. I don't know about you, but I'd say that was the most productive I've been in weeks, if not months."

Ron pulled his chair closer and put his hands out where she could reach him. "I was an arse, that's what I was. Sure, I love Quidditch. I reckon I'll bleed Orange, or White and Red, until I'm senile. But missing a morning for a leg over was selfish on my part. Quidditch can wait." He looked at their intertwined hands. "Shite. I waited years, thinking you didn't feel the same way. I cocked up, pushing you aside for a bloody Quidditch match."

Hermione smiled softly. "And you will again and again. I just have to be patient that you will occasionally throw me over for some dancing veela in a set of robes too small for her body. I just have to trust that you'll come back to me."

"Oy! That's not fair. I was 14 at the time. It's been years since I've gone arse over tits over a veela."

Hermione leaned up and kissed his lips gently. "You were, but now you're 18 and still mad for Quidditch. So, from now on, if you want to throw me aside for listening to a match, just say so. I'll make sure I have things to distract me while you're otherwise occupied."

Ron pouted and looked quite adorable. "I'm not throwing you aside. I just – "

Hermione put her finger to his lips. "I'm not mad. Just tell me and I'll go read a book."

Ron pulled her finger to his lips and kissed them. "You think we can get back to what you wanted this morning?"

"I would but I reckon Mum and Dad'll pop in for lunch today, since they left early to eat breakfast out. I don't want them walking in and interrupting anything."

Ron sighed melodramatically. "I'm a git."

"Yes, but as we agreed, you're my git now. You'll get to make it up to me sometime this week. Who knows? Maybe even tonight, once Mum and Dad go to sleep."

"Is that a promise?" Ron brought her hands up to his lips and laid kisses on each of her fingers.

"It is."


	10. Father's Advice

**A/N:** This starts a 4 part collection. I hope everyone stays with it for the following chapters. - _DG_

* * *

"Ron, where are you going? I thought we were spending the day together?"

Ron collected his grubby shirt along with spare trainers and headed for the Floo. "I forgot, love. Mum asked last week if I'd come over and replace some of the shingles up on top of the roof. You remember that storm that blew through a week ago? Anyway, I gotta go. I'll see you tonight."

"Ron Weasley – "

He didn't hear the rest of her pregnancy diatribe since he disappeared through the Floo to his parent's residence in Devon.

"Ron!" Hermione yelled in frustration in the small den of their flat.

* * *

Ron stepped into the den of his parent's residence in relief. He needed a day away from his five month pregnant wife. She'd been on bed rest for the past three weeks on Healer's orders because she was a high risk pregnancy, whatever that meant. He only knew that Hermione came home in a huff, changed her clothes to work attire, spent the day in meetings with the Directors at MLS before returning home and crying the rest of the night. The next day, she was propped up in bed, writing away on the project she was in the middle of at work.

"Why are you lounging in bed, working on paperwork? Shouldn't you be, I dunno, at work, doing that?"

Hermione shoved a lock of hair out of her face and gave him a harsh look. "I would be at work, slaving away at this legislation that is due next week, if my Healer hadn't said that I was to be on bed rest for the remainder of my pregnancy. I'm supposed to spend the bulk of my day in the bed _resting_, whatever that means. I can take a shower, get something to eat, use the loo, whatever. But the bulk of my time is supposed to be in bed. That's what the Healer said, and it's completely rubbish. I feel fine."

Ron stood in the doorway regarding his wife. She wasn't showing that much with her pregnancy but her morning sickness went past twelve weeks, and neither Mum was being helpful, according to Hermione. Molly was telling her as soon as she announced that she was pregnant that she needed to take a couple of years off from work, to raise their child at home. She also asked if she was eating right, avoiding too many fried foods and sleeping the requisite ten hours a night.

That didn't go over very well.

And then there was Jean Granger. Ron tried not to think on that too much either. Hermione coming home in a temper and taking it out on him told him all he needed to know, at least with his Mother-in-law.

Hermione hated being bored more than she hated being still. Instead of resting or doing nothing important, she was working from home, researching cases while propped in the bed every single day. The only downside to Hermione in bed most of the day was that she was preternaturally randy.

Of course he was more than happy to oblige his wife when it came to affairs of the bedroom. And it wasn't their normal Sunday morning shag either. No, this was the stuff that fueled his teenage fantasies growing up. Who knew that Hermione had that side to her, even as debauched as their sexual escapades have been these last few years? Broom closets and in the scullery at the Burrow were tame for some of the things she wanted to do, now that she was pregnant.

At least he was until he heard a groan of pain. From that moment on, Ron Weasley had turned into a monk.

Hermione tried to talk her way out of it, saying she had a cramp in her hip. But Ron knew better. They had been intimate for years, doing things that blew his fantasies out of the water. But the yelp of pain from her that morning put him off wanting a leg over for the last 10 days.

Some days it was easy to put her off, like the days where she spent an hour in front of the toilet fighting the morning sickness that was an all-day affair. Others had been easy too, with him pulling extra shifts with the Aurors or helping George on the weekends. He'd come home exhausted and have just enough to eat dinner and go right to bed.

She cornered him in the shower one morning earlier this week and while that was most pleasant, the niggling guilt he had, hearing her yelp of pain, kept him from enjoying the knob polishing he got from his drenched wife.

At least here, at his parent's residence, he could get some time away. The boiling cauldron in his head was befuddling him in all sorts of way.

_What if I'm hurting her every time I get a leg over? Could I hurt the baby pounding into her like a twat? Merlin's pants, I can't hurt them, not after everything she's gone through!_

Ron put his parcel down and went to the kitchen. Ron talked with Molly yesterday and she mentioned to him that her and Dad were going down to the coast to visit Fleur and the girls today. It was a brilliant idea on his part, having run of the house and some time to himself. He needed to clear his head and figure out how he was going to tug on his tadger without upsetting his wife. _She'd have a litter of kneazles if she –_

"Ron? What are you doing here?"

Ron turned from the stove and saw his Dad standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He looked slightly sunburnt and more than a little windburned. "Hi. I was here getting a cuppa. Want one?"

"Sure, I'll take one. There's some biscuits up in cabinet. Get me the packet of Jammie Dodgers and you can have the chocolate ones."

Ron finished with the pot of tea and procured the biscuits for his dad. They ate in silence for a second before Arthur put his cup down. "Now tell me why you're really here. Did you and Hermione get into a row and you needed some time to calm down? That's understandable at this stage of her pregnancy."

"Well, no, it's not like that." Ron ran his hand over his head and down his neck. He knew he couldn't hide from Dad no matter how he tried. "It's Hermione. You know she's on bed rest the rest of her pregnancy, right?"

"I do. I remember your Mum going around like a dragon with a sore tooth for much of the twin's pregnancy and she was no better with your or Ginny, for that matter." Arthur took a slow sip of his tea. "But there's more that you might not fathom. Each pregnancy was harder on your Mum's body. She wasn't always so… soft. Before she got pregnant with Bill, she was an hourglass and quite a looker."

"Uh, Dad, it's actually nothing like that." Ron paused to shove a chocolate biscuit in his mouth. "I dunno who to mention this to, 'cause not like most of my brothers would talk about it, not with me, but,…"

Arthur sat quietly drinking his tea while waiting for his youngest son to cobble together his thoughts that might come close to making sense. He knew his son as well as his wife did, if not better. Ron was just like him, in so many ways, but also like Molly too: headstrong with a temper, so much like Molly, but occasionally lost for words and those he had stayed jumbled in his head. He needed time to work things out, on his own, before he'd understand.

Ron looked up and was bright red, much like the tomatoes in the garden. "If Hermione finds out I told you this, she'll have my bits."

"I doubt it but if that'll help, I won't mention it to her."

Ron shoved another biscuit in his mouth. Seconds passed while he struggled. "It's Hermione. We were having a leg over, and it was nothing short of amazing, and she cried out in pain. Right then, I thought I'd hurt her." Ron put his head in his hands. "Hermione, my wife, and I hurt her."

"What did she say?"

"She said it was a cramp in her hip and she was fine, but it was like being doused in cold water."

Arthur looked at the last biscuit in his hand and put it back in the packet. "So let me get this straight. You've been with Hermione since the war ended, and more after that. You've been together with her, intimately, for years, and this time you think you hurt her and it's got you guilt ridden?" Arthur looked at his son looking retched across the dining room table. "Do you really think you hurt her while you were intimate with her?"

"Well, yea, since she's pregnant and all. She said it was a cramp in her hip but I can't help think that it was more than that. She's been sick, sicker longer than Ginny ever was, according to Harry. And it's nothing like what Audrey and Fleur went through." Ron changed color, from bright red to a slight shade of green. "What if something's wrong and she's hiding it from me? She's been through so much and I can't stand the thought of her hurting, especially like that."

Arthur finished with his second cup of tea and put the cup down. "You really think that your other sisters in law had easier pregnancies? Well, aside from Ginny, you're probably right. But then they haven't gone through what Hermione did. Sure, Angelina had it rough the year she was abroad, hiding from the Snatcher 'til she got out of the country. And Audrey was in training at St. Mungo's but was tormented by the other Purebloods in the hospital for treating Muggleborns on her own time and knut. Fleur was confined to home most of that year since she was targeted for being mixed heritage. I won't bring up your sister."

"Hermione had it rough, but there's something you need to know. Hermione wasn't the only one who had a rough pregnancy. Your Mum did too. That's the reason why Ginny was the last."

"But I heard Mum and Aunt Muriel talking and she said – "

"I know. But that's rubbish. Muriel was being nasty, that day. She's never been that fond me, I reckon. She's told me plenty of times I should quit living hand to mouth and take a real position at the ministry, to take care of my family." Arthur got up to make another pot of tea. "We had you and you were such a good baby, at least until the twins started tormenting you when you were about a year old. There were days I wanted to lock those boys in the attic but Molly wouldn't hear of it. She said you'd grow into it, and fight back. But that was the thing: you never did. You're just as kind now as you were then. Oh, I know, you've got a temper to match Ginny, and you're less cautious than Charlie is, with his devil may care attitude. And you do laugh, but it's not malicious like Fred and George. No, in that respect, you take after me. You only hurt someone as a last resort, and only in defense. You never hurt Fred or George, or even Ginny, unless they hurt you first. They only tattled more to get you in trouble. I knew but your Mum wouldn't have a word on it."

Arthur took the kettle from the cook top and poured a second cup for himself and one for his son. He watched in fascination at the three lumps of sugar and milk for his tea. Once Ron was taken care of, he sat back down opposite his youngest son.

"But the thing is that when your uncles were killed, it broke your Mum. She appeared to take it well, but she was hiding her pain. Even I didn't know how bad it was 'til she yelled for me from the bathroom. I raced upstairs and she had collapsed in the bathtub. She looked at me, crying her eyes out, telling me that she thought she was losing the baby. I panicked and picked her up and apparated us to St. Mungo's, leaving you in the bassinet in our room and the rest of the kids playing, completely unaware what was going on.

"They took her back and I raced home, to collect you boys. Bill and Charlie were a help, and so was Percy. You were in a sling on my back but the twins were being uncooperative, as usual. Bill used magic on them, to hold them in place until I could put a hand on each of them." Arthur chuckled at the image. "You'd think I had hurt them, the way they were howling. But they were just upset 'cause they were playing and got interrupted. Silly boys, those two were."

Arthur saw Ron's cup was empty and poured another one for him.

"I sat in that waiting room with those rambunctious kids for hours, just waiting to hear about Molly and Ginny. It was a huge relief when Fred fell asleep and George followed him. You though? You cried until they fell asleep and then you were just fine. But while everyone was behaving as expected, I was a total mess. I was a mess because I had never contemplated losing Molly in childbirth. It happens, sometimes, with witches, but Magical medicine has made huge breakthroughs in the last fifty years."

"That was the worst day of my life, at that time. You might not remember it, since you were so little, but Molly barely took care of you. She had her hands full, with keeping the twins from tearing the house down, or nursing Ginny often to get her healthy. You were shoved aside, unfortunately, left in the care of Bill, Charlie, and even Percy. You took it hardest of all, and none of us were wise to it until later."

Arthur shook his head in consternation. "All I'm saying is that any time a woman's pregnant is difficult, whether she's healthy as a hippogriff 'til the day her water breaks, or she might be as weak as a flobberworm, confined to a bed for the entire pregnancy. But hurting her by getting a leg over? Rubbish to that."

"But she cried out in pain!" Guilt rolled across his son's face. "If making love to my wife is going to hurt her, I might as well tug on my tadger in the shower until after she has our daughter."

Arthur smiled slightly. "Have you discussed this grand plan with your wife yet?"

"Well, no. I've been avoiding the issue the last few days since she's been home. She wants me but all I can think about is that I hurt her and I lose any stiffy I've had."

"You might want to talk with her before making a hasty decision. Pregnant women are notoriously hormonal and making a decision like that, without consulting her, might be a really unwise idea. I know 'cause I did that with Molly, when she was pregnant with Percy, and I think I slept on the couch for a week after that row."

"You slept on the couch? Why? Was it to get away from Mum?"

"Oh, no, it wasn't that. It was that she was crushed by it, thinking that I had abandoned her. See, pregnant women get those urges and the best thing is to indulge them. Whether it's a making up for a row, or for just showing your wife you love them, regardless of how they think they look, you don't abandon your wife."

"But, Dad, I hurt her, while we were shagging. That's not right."

Arthur gave his son a peculiar look. "You can't tell me that, as long you've been with her, that you've not hurt her while doing those things. I've heard both of you, and I know better."

Ron put his head in his hands, to hide his eternal mortification. "You've heard us? I thought only Harry and Ginny heard us. Bloody hell!"

"If you think we're that naive, I've got some news for you. You're not the first one, nor will you be the last one, to do those things under our roof. You were just the only one who wasn't as cautious with silencing charms, or being very discrete."

"Dad!"

"Anyway, to tell you the truth, if you're worried about hurting Hermione while she's pregnant, you can forget that. A woman's body can go through way much more than a man's can, especially when it comes to things like childbirth. Their bodies are a miracle, what they can do, and accommodate. They'll also fight toe to toe when it comes to their kids. In a fight between you and the kids, at least when they're younger, you'll lose, every single time. And that's how it should be. I'd be disappointed if Hermione was any less."

Ron looked everywhere but face to face. "You think that we'll still have fun, even if she's on bed rest the remainder of her pregnancy? I do want to show her how much I love her but not hurt her, especially that way."

Arthur chuckled. "Just because you get a chubby and think it's painful doesn't mean that she thinks the same thing. Women are soft in just the right ways, so men can have their fun too. And if you think you're going to hurt the baby, you're wrong. Just don't get terribly enthusiastic, if you get my drift, and there shouldn't be any further problems or issues."

Ron fiddled with the packet on the table.

"Now, go on, go home and have that talk with her. She's probably missing you today."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'd not want you to have dishes thrown at you like Molly did when she was pregnant with Charlie. That was a disaster."

"Why did she do that?"

"It doesn't matter. She was mad at me and started throwing dishes when I came home late. I don't want you having to put up with it. So go on, get your things and head back home to your wife. If she's in the mood, do whatever she asks. It's better for her, and you, that way."

"And I won't hurt the baby?"

"No, you won't. That baby is well protected from anything you can do to your wife. So, spend the day with her. I don't want to see you 'til tomorrow."

Ron stood up from the bench and made his way to the Floo in the parlor. Arthur clapped his son on the shoulder, almost shoving him towards the fireplace. "One last thing."

Ron turned and saw his dad give him a cheeky grin. "Do you really think Hermione would let you hurt her, if she didn't want that? So if she told you it was a cramp, take it for what she said."

Ron hung his head. "No. She'd have my bits hung on the mirror if I did anything she didn't want or agree to."

"Exactly. So go home, and if she wants a leg over, don't argue. Just do it and appreciate her while she still wants to do those things. It'll make a good memory when she's yelling at you in the middle of the delivery a few months from now, or when she's been up three straight days with a sick toddler."

Ron picked up a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace, yelling the name of their cottage outside Cardiff. He stepped out and saw the familiar parlor, comfortable couch, and his wife sitting on it. "Hermione, what are you doing out here? You're supposed to be resting in the bed."

She looked up from the tome in her lap and put a finger in between the pages. "I got bored sitting in the bed without you home so I decided to come out here and read a spell. I thought you weren't going to be home for a few more hours. Is everything OK?"

Ron put his things down on the table by the fireplace and sat down next to his wife. "Yeah, I reckon it's fine. Dad was there and we talked a bit. Mum wasn't home so after we talked, I came back."

Hermione put her hand on Ron's leg and saw him flinch. "Something's bothering you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but Dad helped quite a bit. I was just worried and he talked some sense into me, 'bout you and being pregnant and stuff."

Hermione snorted. "I knew that's what had your pants in a press. You've been avoiding me for days. I told you I had a cramp while we were making love but you thought the worst thing."

Ron threw his head back and thumped his head against the back of the couch. "I know; I'm a git. But you've been through so much already that the thought of you hurting while we're shagging just makes me sick."

Hermione rolled over onto her husband and straddled his lap. He looked at her salacious wink. "And what was your father's advice?"

Ron looked at the wanton witch on his lap. "He said that I should indulge you now, for when you're breaking my hands and cursing me in the delivery room."

Hermione toyed with the hair along his collar. "Wise man, your father is."

"But Hermione, you're on bed rest. That means that getting a leg over should be the last thing on your mind."

"You seem to think that we can do everything we normally do, right? Is that what is confusing you right now, that what we normally do is off-limits?"

"Well, yeah, I reckon that most of what we like is out."

"But it doesn't mean that everything is out. I've been reading – "

"What else is new?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and continued. "I've been reading that there are other ways for our activities, ways that we've not tried in a good long while. We can do that, if you want a leg over." Hermione thrust her hips in a debauched way. "And just because I'm on bed rest doesn't mean that I don't desire you. I do, I mean, really do. My Healer said that it's not an issue of pelvis problems, but more neurological than anything else.

She leaned forward and kissed her husband, gently at first before turning up the heat.

Ron broke apart when he felt lightheaded. "Are you sure about this? I don't want to hurt you, or Rose, for that matter. It might be too hard on your body, love."

Hermione reached her hand down between their bodies and squeezed the bulge in his trousers. "Hard.. is a relative term, love." She winked again. "But you're not going to hurt Rose, or me, if you get a leg over. I might be frustrated some but I don't want you to think anything except that I love you dearly and I cherish this life we're bringing into this world."

Hermione shifted off Ron's lap and stood up, reaching her hands out to her husband. Ron stood up from the couch and found his wife in his arms. "Now, take me to bed and we'll see what I can do for you."

Ron stopped her after a step and they turned around.

"What?"

Ron brought his face down to hers and kissed his wife. "I love you."

"I love you too. Shall we?"

They made their way to the bedroom and closed it behind them.

* * *

**A/N2:** In terms of pregnancy, this is a work of fiction. Any woman who finds they are pregnant needs to consult their doctor about the facts regarding pregnancy and healthy relations during that pregnancy. Each pregnancy is different, with different circumstances and situations and health issues. Consult your medical professional if you have any further questions. - _DG_


	11. First Bloom

**A/N:** My solicitors tell me that I need to remind everyone that I don't own copyright or IP to Ron, Harry, Hermione, Rose, Ginny, any Weasley (including Charlie) or St. Mungos. I do own some utility chairs and they are uncomfortable no matter where you are. – _DG_

* * *

Ron Weasley was making a terrific imitation of a Norwegian Ridgeback lumbing in the hallways of St. Mungo's. If he were a dragon, smoke would be billowing out his nostrils. He certainly felt on fire from what happened in the last hour.

He had been north of Glasgow chasing down a serial arsonist when the Patronus came in. But if he wasn't there his arse would have been hung out to dry from the witch calling him. The howler if he didn't have his arse back in London straight away would be of mythic proportions.

His black dragonskin jacket bellowed behind him. His size 12 boots made little noise on the tiled floor. Only his ginger hair stood out: flying every which way out of his black beanie hat.

"Auror Weasley, you can't go in there."

Ron kept walking, pushing through the double doors that hadn't been magically sealed. He kept stalking forward, not letting words like **No**, and **Security!** impede him from where he needed to be. Auror Ron Weasley was on a mission and that mission was to find his wife somewhere in this bloody building.

Only his Mum could stop him. And she was there, standing guard over the door leading to the surgical ward. "Step aside, Mum. Hermione needs me."

Molly flicked her wand and Ron froze mid-stride. "If you go in there, you're only going to make things worse. All the Healers have said is that it's touch and go, whatever that means. They've not been out in over an hour."

She moved her wand again and Ron nearly fell on his face. "What'd you do that for, Mum? Hermione's in there."

"And the Healers are doing everything they can to save her and Rose. You're only going to be in the way."

Ron looked around and saw the various faces of his family. Arthur was there, looking solemn. George was there, sitting with his Dad. With George, you couldn't read much on his forlorn features. Percy was there, along with Audrey. Her face showed more, hard with creases. She'd been there for Hermione, helping her heal, when no one else could help. And then there was Harry and Ginny. Ginny had been crying and so had Harry.

"But Mum, she's not due for another six weeks. That's not right. It's only the middle of October."

Molly walked over to her son and looked up at the giant of a man he had become. "You're right but babies come on their own schedule." Molly pulled the handkerchief from the sleeve of her own jumper. She dabbed her eyes before returning it to her sleeve. "But Hermione was at the Ministry today picking up files, so I'm told, and she said something then passed out. Harry rushed her here but she was in bad shape at that point."

Ron looked at his best mate, sitting in the furthest corner chair of the utilitarian waiting room. "You did Harry?"

The specky git looked up from his own wife to see Ron staring at him. "I did. I broke a few rules doing it but it's Hermione. I couldn't contact you because I was fighting like hell to get her in here to save Rose."

Ron nodded softly at the implication of what Harry was telling him. "Why was she at the Ministry today? She's been on doctor ordered bed rest for months."

"I can answer that," Harry piped up from his seat in the corner. "Malfoy perfected a better Wolfsbane potion. He's been working with Neville for the past year, to get it where it can work on someone who had already changed. The original formula had to be taken for a week prior to transformation. If the afflicted missed a dose, or the potion wasn't brewed just right, the results are disastrous." Harry took a ragged breath. "Hermione was asked to come in so she could hear it herself, from the Head Potioneer working for the Ministry. Between Neville working on perfecting a strain of monkshood that would last longer in the potion, to Malfoy getting it where it could be injected for immediate effect rather than injested for 7 days prior, MLS said it was a top priority. She was asked to come in and offer legal counsel on the situation and applicable uses for MLS."

"But why Hermione? She's been at home for months. What's so important that they called her in to discuss it? Why not an owl, or use those mirrors we have? Don't they have other sods in that office who can do a competent job?"

"They called her in because it hasn't been approved for use from the Wizengamot. She's the smartest one in there and the Undersecretary knows that she has the ethics and backbone to stand up to the Aurors for legal use – and when it's not morally correct."

Ron glared at his best mate across the room. "It's still not right, calling her in for something that could wait until after Rose came."

"Enough," Arthur said quietly. He walked up to Ron and stood toe to toe with his son. The fierceness in Arthur's face cowered Ron. He was the only one who came close to looking at his gentle giant eye to eye. He pulled Ron close and pulled his head down, whispering as only Arthur could. "I've been here, in this room, praying to whomever to spare Molly and Ginny. One of the worst days of my life, it was." Arthur pulled back and gave him a hard look. "Your wife is fighting for her life, and the life of your child. Instead of being pissed at the Wizengamot for their bad timing, you better think about Hermione on that table and pray that she's strong enough to survive what's happening."

Arthur gave one look at his son and Ron crumbled in his arms. "I can't lose her, not now," Ron sobbed into his father's jacket. "Not again."

One by one, each of the family stepped out of the room. Only Harry and Ginny stayed, giving the two men as much privacy as possible inside the small confines of the sterile waiting room.

Ginny stood up from her chair and went over to her brother. His heaving sobs echoed painfully. "Ron?"

Ron lifted his head from his father's shoulder. He looked a complete mess, with his face as red as one of Mum's tomatoes. "Yes Ginny?"

"I've been on that table, remember?"

Ron nodded once, remembering his sister in a similar room two years prior. "I remember. Specky git shouldn't have gotten you pregnant, the sod."

Ginny smiled without it touching her eyes. "I know I speak for Hermione that she'd give her life for you, and for Rose. But you have to trust her, and the healers who are helping. She's going to need you for a long while. I guarantee it."

Harry came up behind her and hugged her around the waist. "You scared, Ginny?"

One lone tear crawled down her cheek before she wiped it away. "Terrified. She's one of my best friends, and she's been there when you gits are out being a hero. So yeah, I'm scared."

"But why? Hermione's done nothing to anyone, in years. Why is she on that table fighting for her life when I'm the one who puts their life on the line daily? Why does she have to go through this?"

"Women have been giving birth, and occasionally dying from it, for centuries." Ginny choked down the words she wanted to say, choosing to temper her raw facts for her bereft brother. "You weren't there when I had James. You got to the hospital later, after everything settled down."

Ron looked lost. _In for a knut,… _

"The hospital has been dealing with women our age for the past few years, the ones who survived the war and the fighting. Anyone who had been subject to the _Cruciatus_ curse is a high risk pregnancy. Luna had it bad, so if she ever does, she's on the same protocol as the rest of us have been. The same can be said for Hannah, for Demelza, for Padma and Pavarti. Anyone who can get pregnant could die from the aftereffects of the curse." Ginny took a deep breath. "What Hermione went through was ten times worse. That's why she was on bed rest for months. That's why she was seeing a Healer once a week. That's why she was taking so many potions for so long. That's why she needed a healer's approval for anything she did besides a trip to the Loo."

Ron looked off at the doors to the Emergency ward.

"She probably got approval for the trip to the Ministry and enjoyed her time out of bed. But Mum's right: babies come on their own schedule. Maybe Rose was hungry and wanted more than what she was sucking out of Hermione's body." Ginny shook her head. "Hell, it's not like she's been the paragon of health for the last few years."

"Weasley family?"

Everyone turned to the Healer standing in the hallway in front of the Emergency ward. He was older, maybe his late 40's to early 50's, and wearing bright green robes that were crumpled and careworn. He looked tired, like he'd been fighting a dragon.

"Which one is the father?"

Ron stepped up and put his hand out in greeting. "Auror Weasley, sir. How's my wife and daughter?"

"Healer Hunter. I'm the head Healer at the hospital, specializing in Curse related injuries."

"Curse related? Shite."

"Easy, son. No, your wife wasn't cursed, at least that's not what brought her into the hospital. No, I was asked to take over from the maternity healers because of what previously happened to your wife those years ago. They have some experience in high risk pregnancies, but nothing like what we dealt with."

"What does that mean?"

"Let's take a seat and talk, shall we? There's plenty to discuss."

Ron wouldn't budge. "Are you trying to tell me that my wife and child are dead? Is this you way of letting me down slowly, to take the sting out?" Ron started hyperventilating. "Cause if that's the case you might as well put a wand to my head now."

"Easy there. No, your wife and child aren't dead. But there's been quite a few complications in her case. That's why I need to talk."

The healer went first into the austere room and sat down on one of the hard seats. The rest of the family piled in, finding every inch of wall, floor, and seat available. "Your wife gave birth to your daughter, about two hours ago."

"Two hours? Bloody hell! Why'd you wait this long to tell us?" Six sets of eyes gave him a dirty look before Ron piped down. He put his face in his hands and muttered something that no one paid any attention to.

"We had to wait to tell you because it was literally moment to moment with her on the table. The curse damage was considerable on the microscopic level."

"Healer, speak English please. We're not Hermione and not Muggleborns. We'll 'cept Harry but that doesn't count."

Harry gave George a dirty look before putting his hand on Ron's shoulder. He felt his best mate's breathing hitch and kept rubbing his back.

"In plain English, she nearly died on the table. We had to resort to barbaric means, rushing as fast as we could, to save your daughter. The healers called me in to perform a miracle on her, and by Merlin's Wand and all the bonds I hold sacred, I did it."

A collective breath released. "Now, we're going to keep both of them here at least a week. Mrs. Weasley will probably stay a little longer, just so we can make sure that she will be strong enough to go home."

"And Rose? How is she?"

The Healer turned to Molly Weasley. "She's a little small, for being born about six weeks early. That's why we want to keep her a few days, just to take precautions. She's not that small, but it's the lung development. But that's not to say that she didn't screech like a mermaid out of water when she came out."

"But what about Hermione? You said that you had to resort to barbaric means."

The healer looked at Ron and gave him a piercing look. "The trauma she suffered years ago did damage on her vital organs. Getting pregnant didn't help. There was considerable bleeding internally and I was performing magic that few wizards could do." The healer shook his head in consternation. "Whatever she suffered at the hands of her tormentors back during the war was extensive. I've never seen so much scar tissue on a woman, much less living and healthy enough to conceive, much less give birth."

"But Healer, what-"

"Let me finish, if you please."

The room settled back down.

"I was called in because there was still dark magic residue inside her. When her water broke while at the Ministry, and she collapsed, the clock was ticking. The only way I can describe it is a miasma, a dark magic toxicity that would have poisoned her had Mr. Potter there not rushed her in on his Auror authority. That's why we had to resort to barbaric means to save them both. Had we not rushed, and had her charts straight away, I wouldn't have been able to save her. That was the miracle, that Mr. Potter broke almost every rule in the hospital to get her into my hands."

"Can we see her?"

"She's asleep right now and will be for some time. Once we purged her body of the last remaining bits of dark magic, she was hysterical for you. We gave her a sleeping draught along with probably a dozen other potions to let her body rest after the ordeal. But you can go in and see her, and we'll bring your daughter out as soon as we're done running our checks on her."

The Healer stood up from the chair and made his way back to the doors. "For her sake, I'd consider whether you want any further children. She might be able to have one more, without doing irreparable damage, but I would strongly counsel against more than one more. I don't think her body could handle the stress of multiple pregnancies, not after this one." The healer offered a tired smile. "But that's a discussion for later. We'll talk more after she wakes up."

The Healer left and the family sat in silence.

Ginny went over to her brother and put her arms around him. Within moments, they were both sobbing.

Ron sniffed and wiped his face on his dragon skin jacket. "Well, come on, let's go meet Rose. Merlin knows we've waited long enough to meet her."

Everyone followed Ron into the ward across the hallway. Percy held the doors open while everyone lumbered through the doors. Ron took the lead, looking for the pink tag and the name Weasley under it. Each door they passed made him more anxious until he came to the last one on the hallway. The rooms at the end were reserved for Aurors and were private. He'd have to remember to thank Harry later for being the Chosen one and getting her admitted under Auror authority.

"Give me a minute, would you?"

Muttered acceptance replied from the crowd behind him.

Ron pushed the sterile green doors and went into the private room. It was small, almost as small as the one they had at Grimmauld Place. Unlike there, it had only one single bed with a small witch in it. Hermione lay there, sleeping deeply, looking almost as pale as the sheets she was laying on.

Ron choked back a sob before finding his wife's hand. It looked so fragile in his oversized ones. Even the goblin silver carving on her arm stood out, looking angry after all these years. "They tell me that babies come on their own schedule. Maybe it was a good thing that you were at the Ministry when it happened. Had you been home, no one would have known what happened." Ron choked on the boulder sized bezor in his throat. "They said that it's a miracle you lived through it."

Ron put her hand up to his fingertips and felt the warmth in them. He crooked his head and picked up the second hand. Those fingers were warm, too. With his curiosity piqued, he untucked the end of the bed and saw her toes – painted a garish shade of orange, his favorite, and felt her toes were warm too.

"It must be the potions. It's the only explanation."

"Captain Weasley?"

Ron put the blanket back on the bed and turned towards the door. "Yes?"

"You're needed. Your daughter wants to say hello to her Daddy."

Ron stood there gobsmacked. Ever slowly, he grinned. "Daddy. I like how that sounds."

Ron left his wife asleep in the bed and made his way to the hallway. Sure enough, once the doors were closed, a Mediwitch was standing there with a bundle in her arms. "I believe she's yours, I reckon," the Medi-witch said. "Wee lassie you have there."

Ron held his arms out and received his daughter for the first time. Under the various blankets bright blue eyes, a button nose, and a small tuft of curly reddish auburn hair peeked out. He offered one long finger to tickle her cheek with. "Hi Rose. I'm your Daddy."

Rose looked up at her Daddy, blinking away.

Two fat drops fell down his nose and onto her blankets. He smiled through the tears coursing down his cheeks. "I'll have to do, for now, 'cause Mummy's sleeping in the next room."

Ron looked up and saw everyone was still with him.

"Hermione's gonna be chuffed that everyone else got to meet Rose before she did."

"That's not true. Those older prats called brothers aren't here, are they?"

"You hush, George. Charlie'll be in when he can and Bill's on assignment in China at the moment. They'll come visit when they get a chance."

"Yes, Mum." George fumbled inside his garish purple work jacket and pulled out a cigar. "A gift for the git known as Ron. Congrats, you tosser."

Ron took the cigar in his hand and stuffed it in his cloak pocket. "There'll be no smoking around my daughter, not if Hermione has anything to say about it."

"Then save it for later when you're out with your brothers celebrating." George grinned. "We're celebrating once those gits show up and Hermione's home with the wives, right?"

Everyone stood around awkwardly for a moment. "We'll wait 'til Hermione can hold her before Rose gets passed around." Arthur looked at everyone for askance. But all the heads nodded in firm agreement.

"Mum, do you think we should introduce Rose to her Mum?"

"No, let's wait until Hermione is awake tomorrow. She'll be upset if she wasn't awake to hold her." Molly sniffed. "I know I was when I didn't get to hold you or Ginny."

Ron nodded at what his father told him earlier.

"Then Rose and I are going to go sit with Hermione a spell. She's had a long day and so has Rose, but I need some time with my favorite ladies."

"Then your father and I are going up but we'll be back up here tomorrow."

"Yes Mum."

Ron accepted pats on the back and kisses from everyone before all that was left was Harry and Ginny. "We're running by Shell Cottage to see Fleur and get James before going home. Anything you need for us to do tonight?"

"Just let Otter out. And feed Crookshanks. That's about it."

"You need anything?"

"We could use some changes of clothes tomorrow. My uniform isn't that comfortable, at least longer than tonight."

Ginny leaned over and kissed her niece on the forehead. Bright blue eyes looked at her as only a newborn can. "Aunt Ginny loves you Rose. I'll see you tomorrow." She then kissed her brother on the cheek.

Harry leaned over and kissed his niece before clapping his best mate on the back. He'd taken two steps before stopping and turning back to Ron.

"Alright there?"

Ron looked at the figure sleeping in the bed and the bundle in his arms. "I reckon so. It's been one barmy day and I wasn't here for most of it. But yeah, I will be." He looked at the blue eyes staring up at him. "Harry, I –"

Harry smiled. "I know."

Harry and Ginny left the ward leaving Ron standing in the doorway to Hermione's room.

"So, Rose, I figure I need to get stuff said now before Mummy wakes up. I need to warn you about how bloody fantastic she is. But she's a handful, too." Ron looked once again at Hermione in the bed. She was still so pale, at least to his eyes. He moved her hand out to the edge of the bed where he could sit next to her while cradling Rose in his arms. Ron sat down and shifted Rose into his other arm, holding her while reaching out for Hermione's hand. The warmth in her fingertips was so comforting.

"I met your Mum on the train to Hogwarts. We were eleven."

Ron prattled on, talking to Rose. She blinked occasionally before a huge yawn and falling asleep in her Daddy's arms.

Once she was asleep, like her Mummy, he brought Hermione's hand to his lips. "Don't scare me like this again, you hear me?" Tears ran rivulets down his face and off the end of his long nose. "We need you."

* * *

An hour later, the Medi-witch came in and found Captain Weasley fast asleep, holding his daughter in his arm while holding his wife's hand. All she could do was smile at the miracles that were Hermione Granger-Weasley and Rose Weasley.


	12. Skin to Skin

**A/N:** This is the sequel to First Bloom, as requested. It's not in Hermione's PoV, simply because of everything she went through. (And it would have taken three times as long for me to write it out since I'm pants in first person writing.) I still hope it meets with the requestor's approval. Also, standard disclaimer - not JK Rowling nor do I own copyright. - _DG_

* * *

Hermione felt an enormous pain in her abdomen, followed by a gushing of water sensation.

_It's too early! OhdearGodinheaven, make it stop! _

"Harry," she said quietly, to not panic her best friend. He turned to look at her.

Hermione Granger-Weasley passed out in front of her best friend and brother from another mother.

* * *

"_Carved her like a ham, I reckon. I hate resorting to barbaric means to save a patient."_

"_Won't feel like doing anything for a while, not after what happened."_

"_I've seen Beef Wellington carved better than what you had to do, I reckon."_

"_Might be here a month, if she lives."_

Hermione opened her eyes and saw six people, all wearing green scrubs, surrounding her. "Where's Ron? I need Ron!"

Grey eyes behind a mask looked at her. They were kind, almost gentle, in their look at her. "He's been notified. But we need you to hold on."

"What's happening? Where's Rose?"

"She's safe. But you have to hold on. Here, drink this."

Hermione felt her head being tipped up. She screamed in pain.

"Drink," said the calm voice behind the mask.

She choked down the potion and felt a burning sensation in her throat.

"It hurts," she groaned when they moved her again. "Make it stop."

"We can't give you anything until the Healer is done. Hold on!"

They moved her again and she screamed harder.

"Please, make it stop!"

"Almost there," a voice whispered from the foot of the table she was on.

Hermione screamed a third time, arching her back so far that the pain would break her back in two. "Please! Stop this!" She ran out of air and flopped onto the table, panting, sucking in precious air into her scalded lungs.

"One more," she heard before her entire life burned before her eyes.

Hermione screamed until she passed out.

* * *

"_Weasley was pissed. Looked like a fiend walking the hall. Sodding Bastard's lucky he's an Auror."_

"_Should have been arrested…"_

"_Lucky she didn't die on the table"_

Hermione felt the tendrils of magic seconds before she took a huge gulping breath. "Ron," She croaked in a voice nothing like her own.

"Outside," said the kind voice connected to the dark brown eyes next to her. "Drink up."

"Rose? Where's Rose? My baby!"

"Shhhhh. She's in the next ward. She's fine, if terribly early."

Hermione took another breath. "Mum, Dad. Ron."

"They've been notified. Your husband is here and we're just making sure you're fine before we let him in here. Potter's here and most of the other Weasleys, I reckon."

The mediwitch turned and had a vial in her hand. "You're very weak and it's still touch and go. You need plenty of rest next few days. Drink up."

"Not until I see Ron."

"Mrs. Weasley, you desperately need rest. Your heart's close to exploding, after what you went through."

"I don't care. I need to see Ron and Rose."

"And you will, but you need to take these, first. We'll wake you when it's time for him to come in, and when she's stable enough to be brought to you."

Hermione's head was lifted from the pillow and given vial after vile of potions. Some went down like coffee, and others were choking, like a dirt concoction. Each one settled into her stomach and did nothing for the pain in her head.

"I need a pain potion. My head is hurting."

Hermione heard some shuffling on the other side of the bed and saw a second face pop into her field of vision. "You said your head was hurting?"

The dull ache in her head was growing worse. "It's getting worse," she croaked again.

Hermione turned her head and squinted. "Well, I'll be. That looks like a crumple-horned snorkack. I'll have to Owl Luna about this. It seems she's right."

"We need Hunter in here. Something's terribly wrong."

"I'll just rest until he gets here."

"No, Mrs. Weasley, stay with us. Stay awake."

"I'm terribly tired." Hermione felt her eyes growing heavy. She turned and retched over the side of the table.

"Get Hunter now!" someone screamed before Hermione passed out.

* * *

There was a sigh in the darkness, followed by deep breathing. Hermione lay in bed, feeling warm under the covers. _Ron_, she thought. She reached out and felt a metal railing under her hand.

"Ron," she whispered into the darkness.

Fingers intertwined with hers. The hand gripping hers was warm, quite soft, and entirely too small for who she was expecting.

"Wrong Weasley, dear. But then you're not that picky when it comes to ginger hair and loud personalities." Hermione cracked her eyes and saw brown ones looking down at her in the early morning sunlight peeking into the room. Relief showed on her sister in law's face. "My troll of a brother, namely your husband, is at the nursery with your daughter. He might also be getting breakfast. He'll be back shortly either way."

"Where am I?"

"You're in St. Mungo's, you bint. Where do you think you'd be?"

Hermione tried to sit up in the bed and was wracked with pain. She flopped down onto the bed with a grunt.

"Easy there. You've been through Mum's wash basin last few days. You stay in that bed."

"My head's a bit fuzzy."

"I'm not surprised. You gave all of us quite a fright there."

"That bad?"

"Do you really want to know?" Hermione nodded gently. "It's bad enough that you're going to be in here a while."

"And Rose?"

Ginny sat down in the chair next to the bed. "She'll be in here less time than you will be. But no one will mind helping one bit, least of all me."

"Where's Mum and Dad?"

"They'll be up here shortly, I reckon. They've been up here every day since you were admitted."

"How long have I been in here?"

Ginny turned her head and heard a noise in the hallway. "Maybe I should go get Ron and the Healer to explain things."

"Don't." Hermione squeezed Ginny's hand that was still holding hers. "I can hear it from you. How long?"

The doors to the hallway opened and Ron walked in, carrying a sack of takeaway. "Hermione!" He dropped the sack and took the three steps to the side of the bed. He pressed his lips to hers in a less than chaste kiss. "You're finally awake!" He pressed another kiss to her chapped lips. "Fuck! I missed you so much!"

"Finally? How long have I been asleep?"

Ron's face turned a rather vivid shade of red. He glanced at his sister sitting on the opposite side of the bed and she shook her head in the negative. Ron looked back at his bed ridden wife and saw the concern on her face. "Three days, just like before. More like three and a half since its Saturday morning." Ron put his hand on hers and squeezed gently. "You passed out while at the Ministry, talking to Harry. He apparated you here directly, on Auror authority, and they rushed to save Rose, then you."

Hermione shifted in the bed and winced in pain.

Ginny got up from the chair on the other side of the bed. "I'll go get the mediwitch while the two of you talk." Ginny walked over and picked up the discarded takeaway sack and brought it to the bedside table. They stayed quiet while she left the room on her errand.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Ron put his hand on his neck and looked ashamed for his wife. "I nearly lost you again. When you passed out and your water broke, there was more than just water leeching out. Harry recognized it from what happened to Ginny, but it was worse. Much worse, I reckon." Ron pulled up a chair to sit down next to the bed. "They acted like Muggle doctors, cutting you open like a side of beef, to get Rose out quickly. I only know that because the Healer told me so. He said it was either that or lose both of you."

"That doesn't explain anything, Ron." Hermione slumped further into the bed clothes, tired already from the miniscule exertion from being upset.

"The Healers said that it was due to being cursed. You were tortured more than most, probably as much as the Longbottoms. But unlike them, you were younger and somehow survived it with your sanity intact. But the dark magic toxicity that was still in your body flooded your system when your water broke."

"So you're saying when my water broke, it was like a blood poisoning."

"Something like that. The Healer would be able to explain it to you better than I ever can. You'll understand what he's saying when he comes in to talk with you."

Hermione winced.

Ron turned his head towards the door and the noise in the hallway. "Let me see what's holding up Ginny. You look like you need some pain potion, at least."

Ginny walked into the room followed by the on-duty mediwitch. "Ah. Mrs. Weasley. You're finally awake. Welcome back."

Hermione smiled softly. "Ron told me I was Sleeping Beauty for a while."

"Come again?"

"Nevermind. I forgot where I was at. I was referencing a Muggle tale, where Aurora, the fair princess, was cursed and slept for 100 years. She needed a prince to break the curse, and to awaken her."

"Ah, very good." The mediwitch put a tray of potions on the side table. "The Healer will be in eventually. He's in the A/E right now dealing with a werewolf patient."

Hermione blanched further. Ginny picked up her purse and came over to the bed. "I'm going by Mum's and picking up James. They'll be up this evening. I will too. I'm sure Harry'll be by around lunch time as well." She leaned over and gave her sister-in-law a kiss on the cheek. "Don't scare me like that again, please?" she whispered into her best friend's ear. Ginny pulled back and Hermione saw the emotions rolling across her best friend's face. She couldn't answer from the unintentional sting of her words. She nodded quietly before watching one of her best friends leave the room.

A large hand squeezed her hand before she saw blue eyes looking at her in concern. "I'm fine," she said quietly.

The nurse rattled the tray in obvious notice. They both looked at her while she was making her potions and tubs ready. "But your case will certainly be worthy of medical journals for years to come. I don't think we've ever had a case as serious as yours and the patient lived through it." Ron looked at the witch then back at his wife in the bed. "The Healer will explain everything when he can get down here. When he's finished with that patient, I'll request his presence, for you."

The mediwitch checked her vials and the parchment on the tray. "Now, Mr. Weasley, if you can step out for a few minutes? I need to see to your wife's needs. I don't think she would like you to witness what her treatment is."

"He's staying," Hermione said in a confident voice.

"Are you sure? It's hardly pleasant and rather disgusting, really."

Ron stepped up to his wife's side and reached for her hand. "You heard the Mum. Who am I to argue with her?"

The mediwitch snorted. "Very well, then. But I will put up a sheet to give her some privacy to what I need to do. It's hardly glamourous." The mediwitch twitched her wand and the bed sheet went up, hiding the rest of Hermione's body from view.

Hermione winced.

"Look at me," Ron whispered. "Just squeeze my hands when it hurts."

Hermione grimaced, refusing to take her eyes off of her husband. She did as he asked and he grunted. "For being so tiny, you bloody well hurt."

"Sorry," she whimpered.

"Hush. I asked you to, remember?"

Hermione grunted in pain, trying to stifle her reaction.

"Does that hurt, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Extremely," she growled out while looking at Ron.

"That's a good thing, then. It means the muscles are slowly stitching together. I would be more worried that you didn't feel any discomfort. Now tell me if this hurts at all," the mediwitch asked from the other side of the sheet.

Hermione groaned in pain.

"That's good, too. The nerves are slowly regenerating where the Healer had to cut you like a witchdoctor." The mediwitch looked over the top of the sheet. "This last one will hurt the worst. Mr. Weasley, if you'll hold your wife's hands," she said before tucking back behind the sheet.

"Ron?"

He put his face up close to his wife. "I'm here." He took her much smaller hands in his. He gave her on quick kiss before looking determined. "Ready when you are, Matron."

Ron felt his hands crack just before Hermione threw her head back and screamed bloody murder.

"Almost done," the mediwitch muttered. "Done."

Hermione fell back onto the bed with a thud. She'd passed out.

"What the fuck did you do?"

The mediwitch looked over the top of the sheet and remained stoic. "I knew she'd hurt but nothing like this." Ron gave her a fierce look. "I'll wake her in a moment. Then I can give her the potions she needs."

"Answer me, witch: what did you do to her?"

"I had to pack her incision with salve. It's a paste that burns when it hits the nerves. That's why she screamed and passed out." She gave the Auror a look of her own, forcing Ron to take a step back from her stern features. "It's either I do that, or she can't have more children because of the nerve damage. What would you have me do, Auror Weasley?"

The severity of the situation crashed into him like a rampaging hippogriff. Ron gulped and nodded in affirmation. "Sorry. I'm just rather protective of her, after everything we've gone through."

"I understand. I've seen several witches in here with similar injuries. That's why I'm her duty witch." The mediwitch put the tub back on the bedside tray. "I've had too much experience dealing with women who were cursed in that Merlin forsaken War. So has Healer Hunter." The mediwitch motioned her wand over her hands and cleaned them. "My name is Miranda. If I'm going to be on duty with Mrs. Weasley another twelve hours, we should be less formal."

"I reckon, Madame Miranda. I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."

"I don't know if there's anyone over the age of sixteen who doesn't know your name, or your wife's name, Ron." Miranda scribbled some notes on the parchment. She finished quickly before banishing the parchment. "Now, I'll wake her, but she needs to see you first. Do you understand?"

Ron nodded and turned back to his sleeping wife. "I'm ready."

He caught her wand movement out of the corner of his eye and nearly had his teeth knocked down his throat by Hermione sitting up in the bed. "G_d, make it stop!"

"We're working on that. Just stay with me."

Ron held her hands still while tears leaked out of her eyes. "It hurts," she moaned.

"I know but Miranda is working fast as she can to make it better."

Miranda was by her side in an instant, handing over the first vial of virulent purple potion. "This is a nerve potion. It'll help with the healing."

For the next few minutes, while Hermione moaned in pain, she took each potion afforded her.

"And finally, a strong pain potion, as you asked."

Hermione tipped that one immediately, shaking under the witch's gaze while the reliever worked its way into her system. "Oh that's much better." The shakes diminished under their watchful eyes. "Wow. That potion worked so fast. What's in that?"

"It's only brewed in the hospital and only for certain patients. Even with it, you can't nurse as long as it's in your system. So it's a hard decision on pain relief and what's best for the new Mum. Now, I can't give you any more for another four hours. If the pain returns, ask your husband to let us know."

They watched the mediwitch make her way for the door. She stopped and smiled at them. "I'll see if we can wheel the baby's bassinette into the room for a little while. I don't know if you're cleared to hold her, but I'll check."

She departed and they both sighed in relief.

"Why can't I hold Rose?"

Ron turned back to his wife and saw nothing but concern. "Love, you passed out from the pain of getting your wound treated. You probably can't even lift yourself in the bed without getting hurt again. That might be why." Ron turned and pulled the chair up to the side of the bed. "The Healers said you might be in here a while, simply because of how much they had to do for you."

One lone tear fell down her cheek. "Can you look under the sheet and see what it looks like?"

Ron did as she asked and only shook his head. "It's covered in a dressing. I have no idea what it looks like. But the way you screamed, they probably did a magical incision from hip to hip, to get Rose out so fast."

"You don't know?"

"No. I was up in Glasgow chasing an arsonist when I got the _Patronus_ from Mum. Harry sent for her and she contacted me. It buggered up the case somewhat but no matter. You're way more important." Ron looked away for a moment then turned back to their intertwined hands lying on the bedclothes." Harry is probably in trouble for getting you here that way, but I'm also annoyed that the department called you in while you were on bed rest. But then you might have had that happen at home and I'd be planning a funeral, not celebrating our daughter's birth."

Ron ran his free hand through his slightly longer hair. "Mum explained that babies arrive when they want, but I'm still angry that you got called into work for something that wasn't worth your life." Ron tried to wipe the rogue tears that were threating to flow. "Sod it. I'm sick of you being the one who has to pay for my choices, damn it."

"Rubbish." Hermione reached her hand up to her husband's stubble on his cheeks. He leaned into her gentle touch. "I'll deal with the Directors when I am better. But for now, we'll focus on getting me better and out of this bed. I'm ready to hold my daughter, laugh with our family, and be exhausted changing nappies at 3am."

"I'm not going anywhere, at least for a while. I have time saved up, at least a few weeks. Ginny said you'll need me and from what I saw this morning, she's right." Ron laid his head down on her bed, letting her run her fingers through his scalp.

"When was the last time you slept?" she asked quietly.

"I've caught a nap here and there. Ginny kept watch part of the night while I got about 2 hours." Ron turned his head so he could look at his bed ridden wife. "I'm not leaving here, not 'til you do. I'll kip in a chair or something if I get tired."

"Ron, you need rest too. No one can handle being on duty so long, not without some time away."

He closed his eyes and moaned slightly when she ran her nails over his scalp. "If I need a break, I'll have someone sitting up here with you. But you shouldn't be left by yourself, not while you're in here."

"Mrs. Weasley? Someone's here to see you?"

Ron raised his head off of the bed clothes and grinned like a troll. Miranda backed into the room carrying a bundle in her arms. "Rose said she needed her Mum."

Hermione hiccupped before sobbing. Ron stood up to see their precious daughter. "I'll get her from you, if you want."

"That's fine, Mr. Weasley. But I spoke with Healer Hunter. Mrs. Weasley can't nurse for another week, not with all of the various potions in her, and she's limited to ten minutes of holding her, so she doesn't wear out so fast." Miranda smiled at Hermione. "Also, to help Rose get stronger, Healer White said that the first contact needs to be skin to skin. So, let me help you peel your gown to your waist and then we'll unbundle Rose and let you hold your daughter."

Ron watched the mediwitch untie the strings on Hermione's gown and gently disrobe her to the waist. He finally saw the bandaging on her distended abdomen. "But if I can't nurse her, won't I –"

"No, far from it. When you've been out, we've been, for lack of a better term, milking you before you receive your potions doses. That way she gets plenty of nourishment from you, and you get to heal up. It's the best of both worlds." Miranda shrugged. "That was what I did first. That's what was so sore and tender."

Ron watched his wife try to move in the bed. She only shifted slightly before Miranda stopped her with a gentle touch. "Magic, honey, so you don't pull those muscles right now." She pulled her wand and slowly moved the bed to a sitting position. "This is why you only get ten minutes, at most. Sitting like that from what we did to you will eventually hurt, even with you on the stronger pain potion."

"I won't care. I just want to hold my little girl," she said while trying to wipe the last few tears from her face.

Ron handed Rose back to the nurse and they worked together to get her out of her baby blanket and out of her onesie. Rose started making noises when they were disrobing her. "A warming charm, until we can lay her on your wife?"

Ron pulled his wand from his pocket holster and did as asked. Rose settled back down once the tendrils of magic wrapped around her.

They turned and Ron watched in appreciation: the mediwitch handed his daughter to his wife. Rose was only covered in her nappie and an orange hat on. Hermione was in her skin to her waist, waiting anxiously for the first hug.

The second that Hermione touched her, she choked back a sob and smiled. "Hi Rose. I'm Mummy."

Ron stood there and saw gold sparks flaring off of Rose. "Blimey," he said softly.

"Now, I'll return shortly. No more than ten minutes, Mr. Weasley. The pain later won't be worth it, I promise."

Miranda quickly left the room to the new parents.

"She looks like you, Ron."

Ron pulled the blanket up around his wife, leaving just Rose's head and hat peeking out from the top of her shoulder. "But she's smart like you. She looks at everything when I'm holding her, and listens to everything I say to her."

Hermione couldn't pull her eyes away from the bright blue ones staring up at her. "She gets her eyes from you, and Mum. Mum has green eyes. That makes sense then, that she'd have blue eyes."

"I don't follow."

"It's complicated, but she must have inherited your eyes." Hermione lifted the stocking hat off of her hair, feeling the crinkled ginger hair there. "She's got my hair texture if your color." Hermione looked over at her husband who had returned to the chair next to the bed. "I'm glad she looks nothing like Draco."

"Hermione! That's hardly funny."

She smirked at her husband. "I know. I'm just being silly this morning. You'd think I was drunk or something."

Ron snorted. "Maybe it's the pain potion they gave you, making you barmy."

Hermione leaned over and kissed her daughter on the cheek. "She smells like a baby."

Ron looked at his wife. "Well, yeah, I reckon, since she's a baby and all. You didn't expect her to smell of candied apples did you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, no, not unless you took her out to the Orchard behind your parent's house already. But she smells different from all of our other nieces and nephews. It's subtle and I can't place it."

"You're smart. You'll figure it out."

"So when are we getting inundated with visitors? I'd hope to see my parents today now that I'm awake."

Ron sat quietly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, not really. Your Mum was most upset when she saw you Wednesday evening."

"They came?"

"Yeah, they did. Someone from the hospital called them. They'd gotten here a couple of hours after I got here. Jean was most upset with me because I didn't come get them personally."

"I don't blame Mum. Your Mum gets mad at me when you get hurt and I don't owl her first." Hermione shifted the baby further down her chest, letting Rose listen to the quiet cadence of her heartbeat. Bright blue eyes slowly closed under the tympanic rhythm of her heart.

"She needs you, as much as I do."

Hermione looked up at her husband. Tears were falling down his face. "You bloody well scared me again. You've gone through so much, endured so much more, to give me what I wanted." Ron rubbed his face across the hand knitted jumper he was wearing. "I need you. She needs you."

Ron sat down with a thud in the chair, putting his head back on the bedclothes. "I dunno how I'd live without you."

"And you won't, if I have anything to say about it."

Ron looked back up at the fire in her voice. "We didn't know about the dark magic still inside my body. But now, after everything, don't you think things will be better?"

"But the salves and potions you have to take to get healthy –"

"They are a small price to pay for me to live to a ripe old age right by your side."

Rose wiggled in Hermione's arms. She whimpered slightly before settling back down to sleep.

Hermione looked at her hands and saw how pink they looked. "Haven't you noticed that I'm better already?"

"What are you on about?"

"My hands." Hermione took her right one off of her daughter and held it up. It was a healthy shade of pink. "I think the dark magic purge from my body, when I went into labor, broke the curse. My feet are warm just under this thin blanket. Haven't you noticed?"

Ron reached down and lifted the blanket from Hermione's feet and saw the garish orange nails and healthy pink skin. He ran his hand over her leg and felt the warmth radiating off her skin. "Are you sure it's not the dozen or so potions they have you on."

Hermione shrugged. "It's possible, but I doubt it. I can't describe or explain it, but they feel different, like I took off a pair of wool socks and my feet are free for the first time in years." Hermione shifted her legs under the blanket. "The best way I can describe it is that they're warm. I'm warm."

She smiled at her daughter before grinning. "And I have you to thank for all of it."

Ron looked puzzled. "Me? What'd I do besides shag you at the right time? And thank you, by the way."

"Prat." She smirked. "You got me pregnant and here we are. She's proof of our love. She's the greatest good we have in our life, now." Hermione sniffed. "And we owe it to give her the best life we can."

Ron reached over and rubbed his large hand over his daughter's head. "And we are, and we will."


	13. Ache

**A/N: Rated T** only because Harry and Ron talk differently around one another than anyone else, like brothers from other mothers are prone to do.

* * *

"Why did this bugger have to go barmy today? Don't they know that I have a meal waiting at home?"

"Ron, for a man, you bitch worse than a woman does."

"Sod off Harry!" Ron thrust two fingers at his best friend across the desk, showing his intense displeasure at his best mate's cheek. "I don't bitch like a woman. Have you not met my wife when she was pregnant and stuck in a bed most hours of a day?"

Harry gave his best mate a dirty look. "Do you really think I want to he be here, of all days? I'd rather be at home, with Ginny and the kids, than sitting at this desk looking at your troll-like features."

"Rather a troll than a goblin." Ron stretched his back out from his too-small desk. "Whose idea was it for us to be working on a bloody Sunday, especially Father's Day? This is rubbish."

Harry looked up at his best mate and gave him a dirty look. "It was my idea, you git. The old guys with families and kids who don't get to see them much needed time too. You know that we'll get our share of a huge meal at the Burrow with Molly and Fleur cooking for everyone. Besides, they didn't know that you'll be there today. I only sent Hermione a _Patronus_ to let her know to expect you at dinner today."

Ron's stomach grumbled.

"Rather Mum cooking than our wives, I reckon." Ron grunted while frantically writing on the third sheet of two-foot parchment on his desk. "Hermione's pants when it comes to Sunday dinner."

"But you tell me that you like Hermione's cooking well enough." Harry sat back in his chair and threw his quill on the parchment lying on his desk. "Ginny's fine enough cook for me. I'm not as picky as you are when it comes to meals."

"She cooks enough for me and herself, mostly me." Ron crumpled a spare piece of parchment and threw it across the desks. "But can't this paperwork wait a bloody day? I've not seen Hermione in weeks. I'm sure Rose has grown a whole foot since I saw her last."

Harry rolled his eyes at his best mate. "Yeah, and you caught the bastard. You catch'em, you gotta fill out the paperwork. It's been that way since Harpo the Foul was a toddler." Harry threw the parchment ball back at Ron. He caught it without looking up from his after-action report. "So what's got your bits twisted? It can't be that you want to get back to dirty nappies and a screaming baby." Harry winced. "Trust me: a toddler teething is best handled by the wife and you sleeping as far away from them as possible. James and Albus were murder for about a month there."

"It's Hermione. I know you and my sister are different from us, but I get this –"

"If you say itch I'm hexing you!"

Ron gave Harry a dirty look. "It's not an itch, per se. It's a, I dunno, an ache, in here," He pointed to his chest, "and I just have to see her, snog her, hold her a bit before I'm better."

Harry laughed. "Nah. You just want a leg over to quell another ache. You're still arse over tits for her."

Ron continued to scribble on the parchment. "I know you think I'm whipped, and I probably am. But she completes me, and I like to think that I've got a place in her head, somewhere."

Harry smirked. "No, I get it. Marriage has done wonders for you, and for both of you. But please, no more details. I've seen enough to burn my eyes for a lifetime."

"You're not the only one," Ron muttered while trying to finish his after-action report.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you."

Ron looked up from his frantic writing. "Oh, just that I caught a glimpse couple of weeks ago while we were at brunch with Mum and Dad. I thought you knew better, trying to shag in the scullery." Ron shook his head. "I didn't need to see your pasty white arse in there."

Harry laughed. "You saw that, did you? Bugger. I thought everyone was out of the house watching the kids at that point."

"Well, I went looking for Hermione for a few moments. I didn't expect to find your arse in there acting like a garden gnome in the spring."

Harry stopped his movements. "Why were you looking in the scullery?" Harry put his head in his hands. "You'd only go in there if you were looking for her to shag, too."

"Bloody right there, you tosser."

Ron threw his quill down on the parchment. "There. Done. Now I can get the hell outta here and to Mum's for some good cooking and better snogging. I'm sure my wife and daughter are there."

"No you don't; not yet at least."

Ron stopped in the middle of picking up his rucksack on the ground. "What the bloody hell now? I've not seen my wife and daughter in two weeks."

"We've got to wait for the guys coming in at 4pm. It's only half three now."

"Bugger them. I need to see my family. The place won't fall apart if I leave half an hour early."

"And I promise you we will. We just have to wait for Robards to give the all-clear for us to get outta here."

Ron stood at his desk tapping his foot.

"Now come on. Don't take it out on me that you're here 'til 4pm."

"Why am I being punished for doing my job better than necessary?" Ron whined.

"Wealey! Is that you bemoaning your lot in life? Get your sorry arse in here along with that after-action report!"

Ron rolled his eyes once more before jumping to the task demanded of him by Director Robards.

* * *

Harry looked up from his stack of paperwork and saw his best mate standing before him. He looked at the heirloom timepiece on his wrist, a gift from his adoptive parents, and smiled. 4pm. Aurors Williamson and Beckford were already at their desks, looking at the evening roster.

Ron shuffled out from the Director's office and picked up his rucksack from the ground.

"Hey, guys," a voice echoed in the offices. Harry and Ron both looked over at the other team that was in the office. "Thanks for letting us off first shift. It was nice sleeping in today, and then taking Dad to the Exmoor match."

"Ta, Sloan."

"Yeah. Thanks. Wife and I went out for brunch and had a kip. That was so nice. So thanks."

The other two Aurors went back to their desks on the other side of the expansive office.

Harry and Ron packed their satchels and made their way out the doors. "Finally. I thought I'd never get out of Robard's office. Bugger was pestering the fire outta me for how I caught the kidnapper."

"How did you find the bastard? Last time we heard from you, he was in Hereford. Then you send a _Patronus_ saying you're in Kent and on your way in with the kidnapper."

"Oh, that was bloody easy, really. I stopped in this pub outside Hereford. Tiny place, really. Looks ramshackle, almost like the Hog's Head."

"Ramshackle?" Harry stopped and looked at his best mate. "Hermione's rubbing off on you."

"What? Can't a bloke read while he's trying to track down a kidnapper? It's not like I can't do anything else 'cept sleep and chase leads. Sheesh! You know my wife writes me love letters and gives me the parcel before I go out on a mission. It's the only thing that keeps me from going around the twist." Ron punched the button hard on the lift. "Anyway, I stopped in at this pub, to get something to eat since it seemed the leads there were a dead end, and the bartender at that pub, after I ordered the cottage pie, told me that the bloke had been in the day before and mentioned that he was going to his place down in Kent. He said a particular name, and I ran with it. A day later, I caught the bastard."

The lift doors opened and they stepped in. Memos flew overhead and were poking everyone in the ear.

"Bloody memos," he grumbled. "I'm off duty until Friday. Go pester someone else."

"Good for you. So I expect we'll hear from you, I dunno, maybe Wednesday?"

"If then," Ron smiled. "I figure that I can coax Hermione into taking a day off, so we can both have time with Rose, and then sleep the next day."

The lift stopped and the two men stepped out. "Just don't pawn Rose off on Ginny for the day so you can have a bit of a lie in. Ginny's dealing with Al teething and that's bad enough. Throw in Rose and she'd pull my hair out!"

"I wasn't planning on that. If we need a babysitter for the day, we'd call Fleur or ring Jean up. But then she's still working so that might be out."

"I don't need the details."

They walked through the atrium and what few employees were in at work today gave them a wide berth. Even with that, they made their way to the Floo network. "You first, since you're gagging for your wife."

"Wise idea there, Harry. See you in a minute!"

Ron tossed the powder in the bottom of the Floo, yelling **The Burrow** and off he went in a swirl of green flames.

'Better give that tosser a full minute before I go through. I don't want to run into him snogging Hermione,' he thought mirthfully.

After a minute, he threw his powder and went to his other home, far away from the Ministry.

Harry landed in the fireplace at the Burrow and stayed there a moment. He wiped his glasses before stepping out. Sure enough, Ron was standing aside of the path from the fireplace, snogging his wife. From the looks of their thrashing, it would be a while before he saw them separated again.

Harry shook his head and went looking for his own wife. All he had to do was follow the sounds of yelling children to find the gathering. The backdoor was open and the kids were outside running around. Molly was finishing up lunch while Ginny was putting the last of the salad and parsnips in a bowl.

"Hi, love," Harry whispered before kissing his wife on the cheek.

Ginny turned and smiled brightly. "There you are. We've been waiting all afternoon for you."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Ron wrapped up his case and I stayed with him while he filed the mountain of paperwork." Harry leaned back and looked back in the parlor. Sure enough, they hadn't resurfaced for air. "Where are the kids? Out with Arthur in the back?"

"James and Fred are running around. Al is down for a nap in my old room and Rose is outside with Dad watching the kids play. Last time I saw, he was reading her a story. Oh, and Teddy is somewhere while hiding from Victorie."

Harry wrapped his arms around his wife. "Missed you today," he said across her lips.

"Later, then?" She kissed him gently, teasing his lips with her tongue. "Make it up to me."

"Absolutely, once the boys are asleep."

They kissed once more before Harry pulled back from his wife's embrace. He glanced into the parlor and saw that Ron and Hermione disappeared. "Maybe we can delay dinner half an hour?" He asked Ginny but Molly heard him too. She turned around and waved her spoon at her son-in-law. "I guessed as much anyway since Ron had been away for the last couple of weeks."

"You're a good one, Mum."

"I owe Hermione as much." Molly smiled at her kids before returning to the stove.


	14. Splendid

The plane was going down and there was the possibility that the Mom and two kids with her were about to perish. Sure enough, for the twentieth time, the plane crashed into the ocean. Moments passed before the three passengers from the plane broke through the water of the ocean.

"We're dead. We're dead. We survived it but we're still dead," the son repeated on the screen.

Ron looked down and his kids were finally crashed out. Rose was asleep on Hermione's shoulder, her auburn friz like her mother's hair spread everywhere. And Hugo was asleep as well, his legs splayed across his long ones too.

Ron reached for the remote control and tapped his wand to it. The sounds level dropped to almost a whisper in the room. He turned and saw his wife reading a book while cradling their oldest in their arms. Rose was lightly snoring, just like her mum does after a particularly exhausting day. And Hugo, his son, the one he didn't realize he truly wanted, was spread out, all legs and arms, reminding him of how he was at age 5.

At least he wasn't traumatized about spiders.

"Hermione," Ron muttered now that the room was considerably less noisy.

"Hmm," she replied, her eyes still glued to her book.

"We got it pretty good, I reckon."

"We do."

"You'd think we'd be here now, after that first night at Bill's house?"

Hermione inserted the bookmark into her reading material and closed the book. She gently laid it on the table next to the couch before adjusting her daughter on her shoulder.

Ron knew she was taking her time to answer. The intervening years had given them lessons in patience, to wait for the other to speak, or to have time to figure out what they wanted to say without hurting the other.

"I didn't expect to live past the time at Malfoy Manor, honestly. But when I heard your voice pulling me out of the dark, and wanting to wake to see you again, everything else has been just splendid."

"Really?"

Hermione shifted so Rose could slumber on her shoulder but she had the arm to support her back. "I'm not ignoring the problems we've had, or the rows that hurt terribly, or the times we've been apart. I'm also not forgetting how hard it was our first couple of years of marriage. But this," Hermione waved her hand gently over the two sleeping kids between them, "this is worth everything we've gone through."

"You'd have not changed anything?" Ron reached his arm across the back of the couch to rest a hand on his wife's shoulder. She rested her cheek on his hand for a moment.

"What's the point of questioning it? I've got no regrets, even with everything we've gone through."

Hermione ran her hand gently up and down her daughter's back, feeling her settle down under her comforting touch. "Would you want different children than what we have now? Because that is what we'd have if we changed anything. We'd have different kids and maybe an entirely different life. So no, I don't question what we've been through. These two we have make it all worth it."

"Even the long hours at the office and the weekends I'm away for George?"

Hermione looked at her husband and smiled. "Yes, it's all worth it. Everything we do for our kids and the kids of everyone else make it worth it. Kids getting to grow up innocent and free of fear, mostly, make it worth it."

Hermione shifted and moved Rose to her shoulder. "I'll snuggle with you once I put the kids in bed."

Ron reached out his hand for her other one, gripping it tightly before she turned and trudged up the stairs with her sleeping daughter on her hip. Once she disappeared, Ron looked down at the sleeping son of his still sprawled across his legs.

"Ya know, you gotta a pretty smart mummy. Yes you do. Maybe someday you'll meet a girl just like her and not hate her too bad, at first."

Hugo continued to snore lightly while the movie kept playing on the telly.


	15. Weasley Brand Candy Floss

"So we were about to make the sale to this witch with this purple hat and this monstrous wart on her nose when this bloke wearing plus fours and a housecoat comes running in and demands we stop the sale."

"Why in the world would he do that?"

"I'm getting there. Be patient!"

Hermione sat further back into the cushions of the couch at the Burrow and scowled at Ron then George.

"Anyway, before the Brilliant one interrupted, we were about to sell her a supply of love potions and this weird looking wizard comes running in an demands we stop our sale to her." George grinned. "He runs to the counter, completely red like a tomato, bursting the seams on his housecoat and insists that she not make that purchase because he was already madly in love with her and he just had to let her know that."

"And sure enough, she started crying and he took her in his arms."

"Sounds dreadful," Harry quipped from the floor by the fireplace. Ginny was settled in next to Harry, holding Teddy. It was their Friday night to keep him while Andromeda had dinner with friends down in London.

"They were sloppy with one another, almost as bad as those fiends on the couch there."

"Oy! We're not that bad, not by a mile!"

"Speak for yourself, dear brother. I know what I've seen and it's positively scandalous!"

Hermione twisted her wand and George scowled before rubbing his bum. "I wasn't talking about you, Hermione. I was talking about that Sod sitting next to you. He was just positively dreadful some days, mostly before your letter came in while you were off at school."

Hermione stowed her wand in her sleeve. "Sorry."

"Maybe," George cheeked back.

"Mum, can you get me a bottle? Teddy seems to be getting restless."

The baby in her arms was starting to fuss. He had been asleep during dinner but since it was later in the evening, he was due for a meal. "Harry, can you get your cloak. You know how he sometimes gets."

"Yeah, sure."

Harry stood up from the floor and went to his rucksack. He quickly returned and draped Ginny with it. She pulled it around her body and over Teddy. But his mewling was growing louder. "I don't think this is gonna work tonight."

She slid the cloak off her shoulders and Teddy's hair had turned a vibrant shade of Pink.

"Oh Merlin." Molly gasped in shock from the doorway with the bottle in her hands.

"George, do something."

"I dunno what I can do, Mum. Last time I checked, I'm not a bird. I can't feed the little bleeder."

Teddy's cries grew louder with every passing second.

"Shut it, you. Someone, think of something."

Hermione stood up and gave Ginny a serious look. She took a deep breath before waving the wand over her head. The family turned and looked at her and she saw the gobsmacked expressions on all of their faces.

"Hand him here, along with the bottle."

Screaming Teddy was handed over to Hermione who had changed her bushy dark brown hair into candy floss pink hair. She opened her top just slightly, so Teddy would have some skin against his cheek. With the bottle in hand and him in her arms, she started feeding him while slowly rocking him in her arms.

Ron turned to her. "Bloody hell, how'd you do that?" Hermione saw the huge grin on his face. "Oh, right, brilliant witch who loves to read. No spell she can't do." He put his fingers on the edge of her hair and laughed uncomfortably. "It feels like your hair but it looks like candy floss."

"I learned it from Lavender, of all people."

"Oh."

"But I learned the official one while we were gone. I thought it might be useful if we didn't want to use a draught of Polyjuice potion. It's a modified glamor charm for a temporary change. It's not that serious but he needed it."

"You have got to teach me that! He does that when he gets really hungry and cranky." Harry was still in awe, watching Hermione feeding Teddy from the couch.

Hermione smiled at the couple on the floor. "I need to teach you that before Ginny and I go off to Hogwarts. I also need to teach you the counter-charm so you aren't stuck with pink hair for the rest of the day."

"Me, with pink hair? You're mad."

"The counter-spell is trickier than the charm itself. If you perform it wrong, it's stuck that way for a week unless you go to St. Mungo's. Technically, it's a spell damage issue. That's why I was hesitant to do it." She looked down at the baby in her arms, finally content while taking his meal from the bottle. "He's worth it, I think."

"He is," Arthur smiled back at Hermione. "He's one of our own, even if he's not a Weasley."

The gathering watched Teddy's hair turn from candy floss pink to a bright shade of ginger.

"I reckon he's a Weasley, right there."


	16. Questions

A/N: Thanks to the Anon who left me the prompt a few months ago... - _DG_

* * *

"I dunno how you got these seats, but they are bloody fantastic."

Hermione kept her nose in the book and didn't look out on the stadium. She muttered something under her breath but Ron couldn't hear a thing over the din of the noise from the eruption of the fans on the announcement of the teams.

"What was that? Seriously, how'd you manage to get us tickets to the match? It's been sold out for months. Getting us these seats must have set you back some galleons for you to do this for us." Ron waved his arm around at their box. "I've checked. These seats are in the VIP box, and they run about 100 galleons a seat."

Hermione's neck turned bright red before she wrapped the scarf tighter around it.

"What aren't you telling me, Hermione?"

"Wow, look at those moves!"

Ron turned and looked at Harry and Ginny watching like kids at their first Quidditch match. Ginny was due to leave for Holyhead on Monday for training camp while Harry had a rare Saturday off from work. Ron wasn't going to ask what happened outside his bedroom tonight and tomorrow. He might still get chuffed from time to time about Ginny's _activities_ with Harry but the git was madly in love with his sister and he was rather good for her.

But it still didn't explain how Hermione got such posh seats to the England vs. Continental charity Quidditch match.

_**And for Seeker, Viktor Krum!**_

_Buggering Fuck!_

"You've got to be fucking kidding. Is that how you got us these seats? Viktor Bloody Krum?"

Hermione turned even more magenta under her scarf.

"So that's how you got us such seats." Ron turned and sat down hard on the bench. "You didn't beg Viktor for them, did you?"

"Yes, I did, for you and for Harry and Ginny." She turned and scowled at Ron. "I can't believe how ungrateful you're being." She turned her face back out towards the pitch. "You'd been talking about it for weeks and I wanted you to have something that you enjoyed since you're working so hard balancing training with helping George."

Ron's anger deflated. "You did this for me?"

"Yes, I did." Hermione scooted across the bench to sit closer to Ron. "You work so hard, helping George and at training. I wanted to do something nice for you. Kingsley mentioned at Sunday brunch a couple of weeks ago that you were making terrific strides in training and you were getting top marks on your tests." Hermione slid her hand into his and squeezed. "It's not like I can take you to bed to show you my appreciation. We already do that often, so I thought this might be a nice way of showing you how proud I am of you."

"But, it's Viktor." Ron scowled out at the little red dot high above the stadium. "Ruddy pumpkinhead," he muttered under his breath.

"Yes, it is. But he was also kind enough to get us these seats. We write some, mostly birthdays and Christmas. But he also knows that we're in a committed relationship and he's happy for me." She turned and looked at her boyfriend. "There's nothing to be jealous about. Face it, Ron, you got the girl and Viktor Krum didn't."

"You sure about that?" The pout was etched on his face.

Hermione leaned in close, just where Ron could hear her. "Who is the only person I consider letting me see me in my knickers?" Hermione blushed. "Whose name was I moaning when you were between my legs last night?" Hermione blushed even harder. "Who is the only person I consider doing _that _to me?"

"Me," his voice went very quiet, "and mine."

"Who was it who shagged me silly last night?"

Ron's ears turned red. "I did."

"Who satisfies me after a pathetic day at work? Who gets me to forget all the things running through my head and just _feel_ for once, not thinking? Who gets me to laughing when you blow into my skin and make noises against my skin?" Hermione looked sideways at Ron. "Who can make me laugh with just a tickle?"

"Me," he whispered.

"Who did I wait for?"

"You made your point. You chose me."

"Exactly." Hermione squeezed his hand and moved back over a few inches. "So, please, enjoy the match. Once it's over, we'll go with Harry and Ginny and meet with the teams and down a pint or two of bitter and you can show off to _Viktor _who you are with."

"He doesn't know?"

Hermione smiled when Viktor flew by their box and waved at the occupants. "Of course he knows." Hermione leaned forward and waved to the dark haired witch further down the box. "Just like his wife knows about me."

"His wife?" Ron peered down the box and saw a well-dressed witch at the other end, watching the match intently. She had a long nose, much like Viktor had, but looked rather comfortable in her olive brown skin and coifed hair. "That's his wife?"

"It is. He sent me a picture of them earlier this year. They were married back in the spring at an estate outside of Sofia. They make a very good couple." Hermione smiled. "She's very good for him, and understanding of what he does as a profession."

Ron looked past Hermione again at the witch at the end. He saw the massive ring on her left hand but the slim silver band on her right hand. He felt a pang in his gut when he considered the price of rings he'd already looked at – and how little he had in his own Gringott's account.

Ron looked at the witch by his side and knew that she didn't value pricy baubles, like engagement rings or posh estates. She wanted him, and everything else was pudding, so she said.

"Anyway, enjoy the match, please." Hermione peered at him before returning to the book in her lap.

"Alright, I will." He squeezed her hand before standing up with the other two gits to cheer for England.

He stood at the railing and cheered, and quietly grateful he had such a wonderful witch by his side who understood him best of all.


	17. Boxing Day

A/N: From an anonymous prompter: happy drunk hermione! Maybe a bit funny? :)))) thank you lots xx

* * *

Ron shoved the last box back onto the shelf and stretched his aching back. The Boxing Day rush at the Wheezes was frantic and he hadn't worked so hard in months for George. Then again, it might be that they both made galleons hand over fist today, with the little blighters with their Christmas money burning their hands and having to spend it as fast as they could.

If he had to hear one more whining prat begging to get a love potion when they clearly weren't old enough to purchase it, much less know what the real thing felt like, he'd go barmy and check himself into St. Mungo's for some rest.

He tried for a leg over this morning but Hermione wouldn't agree. She said he promised to help George this morning and she was holding him to it. A steaming hot shower would have to suffice this morning. Too bad it meant he'd be away from Hermione and she was supposed to be on her own today. Well, on her own as Ginny was with her. And that Hermione was spending part of the day with her parents, maybe. And she had time to recuperate from yesterday's time at the Burrow then dinner with her parents.

"I'm heading out, Ron."

"Don't call me if you get splinched," Ron replied across the barren shop.

"Why would I call you? You can't apparate without someone holding your hand."

Ron gave a blind two finger salute to his brother who was heading towards the door.

"Well, hello Hermione. And hello to you, sister of mine. Fancy meeting you tonight."

Ron heard a thud from the front of the store and stood up to see over the shelves hiding him on the far side.

"Yes, Ron's in here. Harry's not showed up today."

Ron stepped from behind the aisle to see his girlfriend leaning on his sister.

_Oh shite. _"What have you been doing?"

Ginny smiled and Ron could tell she was pissed too. "We stopped in at the Leaky Cauldron for dinner. We," Ginny waved her hand to demonstrate the two inebriated witches, "we were just having a quiet dinner, just us, before Seamus showed up. Then Dean and Luna popped in, followed by Neville and the twins." Ginny motioned her hand for Ron to come even closer. "It was a bloody Gryffindor reunion, of sorts, and then Hannah comes over with a whole bottle of Firewhiskey. Luna convinced Hermione to have a shot of Firewhiskey and before I realized it, she'd had three of them."

"Hi honey," Hermione slurred. "Fancy a drink with me?"

Ron stepped up to the two pissed young witches and couldn't help grinning. Hermione was swaying while standing still and Ginny looked like a sun dried tomato standing in front of him. "I do hope you weren't planning on apparating home. You'd lose a foot that way, I reckon."

"Oh, my. That would be terrible," Hermione slurred again. "No more splinching if we can help it." She burped and had a fit of giggles. "Sorry," she muttered. "I'd look weird without a foot."

"We toddled here so you could take us home."

"And you knew I'd look after you and not tell Mum." Ron scowled at his sister. "But Home? Mum's not going to let you in the house like this. You stink of whisky."

"I never said I wanted to go _home_." Ginny's serious look was betrayed by a case of the giggles seconds after her proclamation. "But take us home, brother of mine."

"You're on your own, Ron!" George bellowed before ducking out the door. His gaffaws echoed for a second before he apparated out.

"Bloody wanker," Ron muttered under his breath before looking at the two before him. "Home, you say?"

Hermione took a step forward and landed in Ron's arms. "Yes, home. I've missed you."

He looked at his sister next to his girlfriend. "And you, you bint? Where are you sleeping tonight?"

"I'll firecall Mum from Grimmauld Place and tell her I'm too pissed to apparate and I'm crashing with you and Hermione."

Ron scowled. "You mean you'll be curled up in Harry's room, won't you? Well, it won't do you any good since he's working the night shift tonight."

Ginny stood up tall, which still only came to Ron's chin. "Doesn't matter. It's a room and it has a comfortable bed in it." She burped loudly and Hermione erupted with another case of the giggles. "Harry likes me in his bed. I like being in there too."

"Who'd I piss off to be like this?" He muttered before shaking his head again.

"Mum's gonna kill me," Ron shook his head again. "Well, let me turn off the lights and we'll get home." He pulled his wand from his pocket and waved it around the store. Curtains fell and lights dimmed.

"Once we get home, both of you can sleep off all the firewhiskey you drank."

Ginny opened the door first and held it while Ron supported a staggering Hermione with him. "You sure she only drank three? She seems more pissed than just three."

Ginny giggled again. "I guess it was three. It could have been more. I was talking with Neville some and wasn't paying attention."

Hermione stumbled into Ginny but kept her arm firmly around Ron. "You, you Harpie. You drank three on a dare by Seamus. I," she spread her arm wide, the one that wasn't wrapped around Ron's waist, "I had four drinks. You bet me the first one, and I did it. Luna drank one with me. She was funny. She was singing along with Dean and Seamus. She didn't know the words to the Irish song they were singing but it was funny." Hermione looked up at Ron and smiled. "Someone threw a galleon my way to get me to quit singing. Hannah took it for part of the cost of the bottle of spirits."

Hermione stopped with a fit of giggles before looking at Ron. "The third was courtesy of the twins, who had to sing too if I didn't drink the shot."

"You said you drank four," Ron inquired while pulling her to the side of the building so they could apparate home.

"Ah, the fourth." Hermione's voice took on her posh accent that came out when she was being haughty. "The fourth was with Neville, who had spent some of the day with his parents. He wanted to toast them in their honor."

"Ah, no wonder why you're bloody pissed. You've can't drink that much and not be sick."

"Padma sobered me up after the third one. Guess it wasn't that good, huh?" Hermione held her fingers out and counted on them. "I think I had five, actually. Neville wanted a second. I can't remember if I finished that one."

"Spells don't work well on Firewhiskey, Hermione." Ron stopped and propped Hermione on the wall. "George taught me that. You have to drink the potions, not use the spells." He looked at his slowly turning green sister. "Ginny? Think you can side-along with me?"

Her eyes were turning bloodshot and she wasn't a healthy pale shade of crème. "Yeah, but I'll probably retch when we land."

"That serves you right for getting pissed on Boxing Day."

"And if you weren't working for George, you'd have done the same thing too, you tosser."

"Yeah, you're right. I'd have been right there with you, tossing back drinks with you, probably for Fred."

Ron heard Hermione giggling behind him. "Better charm my shoes. I don't want them stinking for weeks."

"Rather your shoes than your pants, Ron Weasley."

Ron ignored Hermione's quip while holding onto Hermione. "Grab my arm," he commanded Ginny.

She broke into another fit of giggles. "I've told Ginny about washing your pants. She thinks you need something other than Chudley Cannon's pants." Her voice turned posh again. "But I already bought you pants, didn't I?"

"Next stop, Grimmauld Place." He gripped his wand tight in his hand. "Kreacher's gonna be mad tomorrow, I reckon."

Ron spun with two along with him to their place a few miles away.


	18. Doppleganger

**A/N**: I know this prompt is old, but I finally found time to knock it out. Ron mentioned the only way anyone can pass like him is under polyjuice so that's a bad idea. (His words!)

**Rated T** because Ron has a filthy mouth – and innuendo. – _DG_

* * *

"Merlin, what a cocked up day!"

Ron tapped his wand on the door and banged his head on it. It'd been a long day and the kids were more annoying than usual. He'd had to chase the fanged Frisbees all around the shop – twice – not counting the little girls who kept trying to pass muggle cards saying they were of age to purchase love potions. Throw in George disappearing for a few hours without telling him – making him miss lunch 'til Verity took pity on him and got him lunch from the Leaky – and he'd been in a fit of temper most of the day.

But then maybe it was his nerves that were worn out. Hermione'd been in a strop for a couple of days and was trying to take it out on him. They'd rowed the night before, yelling things that weren't really important but still came out in harsh words and even worse accusations.

Ron put his size 12s in his mouth – both feet really – and Hermione stopped and just stared at him. "You actually believe that? How can you say that?"

She turned around and walked out of their bedroom, slamming the door in his face.

The buggered up part was that he couldn't get the door unlocked for an hour. He'd called Kreacher to assist and only then did the little blighter get the door open. By then, Hermione was locked in _her_ bedroom and wouldn't come out, much less open the door for anything.

He gave it up as a bad job at half eleven when all of his pathetic attempts at begging were ignored.

Kreacher wouldn't even help, saying Mistress Hermione instructed him to secure her room until she woke.

He'd woken early the next morning, hoping to catch her before she went off to work – begging forgiveness, really, even if he wasn't the one who mucked things up – but when he walked into the kitchen, Ginny was sitting at their table, drinking her tea, and told him in no uncertain terms that Hermione left at 5 am for work.

So, instead of spending the day together, like they'd planned, she was at work, refusing his owls, and he was helping George in the shop. He wasn't scheduled but the look on his face when he walked in told George everything he needed to know. "There's a shipment coming in from Madagascar I would use your help with," he said in a too-cheery voice.

So he stayed, helping George, making some extra galleons, and writing Hermione every few hours.

He had a little bit of a walk in the cool fall air. Sure, he wanted to get home and see Hermione, hoping that she'd actually talk with him, but he needed to clear his head before seeing her. He didn't want a repeat of last night's blazing row.

'_Maybe a book as a peace offering will suffice,'_ he thought as he pulled the itchy wool scarf around his neck to avoid the chilly air. The bookstore wasn't that far, and he was sure that he could find something she didn't already have on her shelves. She'd talked over the weekend about getting a History book regarding Centaurs in England so that might suffice.

Ron stepped up to the door of Flourish and Blotts and stopped. _Bloody hell! What's she doing here? And who is that tosser who is with her?_

Ron stood immobile in front of the store and watched Hermione standing close to some sod there next to her. _Probably discussing that book she wanted, arsehole!_ But he wasn't going to ignore her while she was right in front of him.

Ron took a step towards the door and froze. _Oh bloody hell no! Fuck that!_

He grabbed the door to the shop and ignored how it banged on the outside wall. _I know I just didn't see that!_

Ron stomped into the shop and walked back to where he thought he saw Hermione. He walked with a purpose, especially since he saw her snogging some strange bloke in the store.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He reached for Hermione, not caring of the row that he was about to start when the other bloke stopped and looked up from her face. Ron knew this face and stopped. "you!"

Cormac McClaggen stood there with his girlfriend snuggled into his arms. "What do you want, Weasley? Can't you see I'm snogging _my_ girlfriend."

"But that's my girlfriend, you git."

_Hermione_ turned around and Ron stood there gobsmacked. The hair wasn't exactly the bushy hair he loved running his fingers through, or the warm chocolate brown eyes staring up at him, threatening him bodily harm. The tits under the jumper weren't small, fitting his large hands perfectly, or were the hips curvaceous enough. This wasn't Hermione at all. He'd made a terrible mistake.

"Oh, shite, sorry Romilda. I could have sworn you were Hermione from the outside window."

"You need your eyes checked, Weasley. We look _nothing_ alike." She looked him up and down once, in his garish work robes in shocking chartreuse. "And I'd not be caught out with you looking like this anyway."

Ron stammered, trying to find an apology sincere enough but everything was stuck in his throat.

"Ron? What are you doing here? I thought I saw you storming in here."

He spun on his heel and saw Hermione standing behind where he had confronted Romilda and Cormac. "I… I mistook Romilda for you when I saw her in through the window."

Ron stepped aside and saw the other couple staring at the new arrival. "Ah, Granger. Can you inform _your boyfriend_ that Romilda looks nothing like you? The prat though I was snogging you."

She turned and saw the glare from Romilda before turning her complete attention on Ron. She snorted in consternation. "You've got to be kidding! Romilda and I look nothing alike."

"But I saw the hair from the outside!"

"Granger, you might want to teach your boyfriend some manners. I don't appreciate him presuming I'm snogging you." He sneered at her. "You aren't my type."

"That's funny, Cormac, because you're hardly my type either." Hermione reached her hand out for Ron. "He's all yours, Romilda. Mine's a keeper."

The other couple stared at Hermione and Ron as they were departing the bookstore. They left hand in hand, walking around the corner to the apparition point before she stopped and turned on Ron. "What is your problem, Ron? Did you honestly think that I would, after a row with you, go find the most loathsome man I know and snog him? Are you daft?"

Ron rubbed the back of his neck and tried to fight down the furious blush on his head. "I saw her hair and thought it was you. I wanted to talk to you then I saw her kissing him and I lost my shite." He looked at her and saw her stoic face. "It's stupid, but I thought it was you for a moment."

Ron watched Hermione's face roll with the emotions running through her mind. Her face stopped moving and he prepared for the worst.

"Ron, just because we're having an intense disagreement doesn't mean I'm going to run away and snog the first bloke that crosses my path." She reached her hand out and took his in hers. "You know that, even if the echo in your head tells you otherwise."

Ron kicked a pebble beneath his shoe. "I'm being a prat, I know. But she looked just like you from the back and I didn't bother to see the clothes. I only saw the hair and that tosser and just went stupid."

Hermione took another step forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. She leaned her head onto his chest and felt him rest his head on the top of hers. She smiled, hearing his deep breath from the shampoo she used on her hair.

"Let's go home and we can talk about it. I also need to apologize to you for taking my work frustrations out on you."

Ron pulled Hermione from his chest and looked intensely at her. "You're barking, right?"

"No, Love, I'm not. But I'm not discussing that here, in a grotty alley." Wicked mirth crossed her face. "I rather make my _heartfelt_ apology at home, where other ways of making it up to you can happen." She smirked. "I don't want your other girlfriend to be in an audience."

"Oy! She's not my girlfriend."

"I know." Hermione gripped his hands. "I'm enough of a witch for you."


	19. Sketches

**A/N:** Greetings everyone. Due to RL obligations as well as illnesses, I've been writing plenty but publishing less at the moment. Suffice to say, I hope to have some nice things up before the Ides of March, for reader appreciation. So, in light that today is Valentine's Day, have some Romione fluff (with Ginny's commentary) for your pleasure. This is an outtake of a WIP that has been WIP for going on 2 years now. Maybe someday,...

And my Solicitor wanted me to remind everyone I'm not Jo, nor do I have plenty of cheeky comments for my Twitter audience. - _DG_

* * *

Sunlight drifted in through the windows above the great hall. Few students were out of bed this early in the morning, especially after a raucous Saturday on the Quidditch Pitch. Gryffindor celebrated with Hufflepuff, beating Slytherin handily. The Badgers didn't gloat so much as genial celebrations. Why would they? Slytherin house Quidditch team was stacked with fifth years and younger. It was no contest, not really.

So while the Butterbeer flowed and Hermione knew other libations did too, at least in her own house, the other students would still be sleeping at half seven in the morning.

No, she was cursed with having insomnia still, waking at half five regardless of whatever time she laid her head down on her pillow. Not even Ginny's rhythmic breathing, punctuated with the occasional snore could keep her lulled to sleep past half five.

So, instead of wallowing in bed like Ron, she arose, followed her morning routine, and went downstairs to have breakfast. And, as expected, the continental breakfast the Elves made just for her was just what she needed for a meal. The croissants were flaky, the tea and milk was just the right temperature, and the crock butter tasted wonderful.

But this morning was a special treat. The Elves sent up a plate of spinach quiche and it was outstanding. She tucked in for another bite and heard the first hoots of owls from the upper eaves. "Right on schedule," she thought.

"It's too bloody early in the morning."

Hermione looked up and saw Ginny plop down across from her. "And good morning to you too." Hermione smirked while Ginny tapped her wand on the tabletop and a full English cook-up appeared on the rest of the tabletop. "I love this," she muttered while tipping the fried eggs and bangers onto her plate before snatching pieces of buttered toast from the tray.

Hermione watched the owls bring the early post as well as the newspapers and other correspondence. A brown tawny owl dropped her copy of the Daily Prophet with little fanfare and flew away. Inside, she was a little disappointed. She'd hoped that Ron would have sent _something_ to her today.

She looked up and saw Ginny opening a small box before her. "From Harry?"

"Yeah." She tore the parchment paper wrapping and pulled a small book out of the box. "He knows me all too well."

"You, a book?"

Ginny held it up before her. In a faint gold script were the words, "The Rules of Quidditch, three hundred edition."

"I thought you told me that the rules haven't changed for Quidditch in almost a century."

"They haven't," Ginny said smugly.

"But a book that old? It looks a century old."

"It's not that old." Ginny opened it and scanned the publish date. "No, just well used. It's only about 3 years old, really. But if I'm going to go pro, I need to know all the rules." She looked up with a smirk on her face. "I need to know as to how to bend them to my will."

Hermione picked up her tea and took a sip. "You sure you wouldn't have fit better over there, on the other side of the room?"

"I'm just following your lead, dear." Ginny looked over at the plates and newspapers surrounding Hermione. "Didn't that prat of a brother send you anything?"

Hermione put her tea cup down and sighed quietly. "Maybe he forgot what day it was. It's not like he's had a good run for this day last few years."

"The git knows better," Ginny muttered while taking another bite of toast. "If Harry, The Oblivious One, knows to send a gift on Valentine's Day, then my tosspot of a brother should know." Ginny pulled a face, trying to imitate Harry and his occasional lost look. "Maybe Harry should teach Ron a few things."

A loud _hoot_ echoed in the hall and the girls looked up from their discussion. An Eagle Owl, larger than the one Malfoy owned, swooped down and landed next to Hermione. "Are you for me?" she inquired.

The owl hooted again and held his claw out. Wrapped around the leg was a miniscule package, obviously shrunken for the owl's benefit. "Why did he use Aesop?" She tried to lift the box from his leg and had trouble. "Oh for Merlin's sake. No wonder why it took forever."

Ginny handed the owl a full rasher and the owl ate it with gusto.

"What is it?"

"The package looks tiny but it weighs a ton. No wonder why he used Aesop for the trip."

"Ron sent it?" Ginny handed the owl another rasher and watched him soar away, probably to the owlery to rest before returning back to London.

Hermione used her wand to restore the package to regular size and gasped as it continued to grow. Once changed back it was the size of a jumper box, like the ones you'd get from Harrod's. "What did he put in here that he needed this big of a box?" She unwrapped the oversized box and pulled away the chartreuse paper inside.

"What did he get you?"

Hermione looked up and blushed. "Um, well," she stuttered.

Ginny pulled the box towards her and lifted the paper. Inside were a few small parcels of chocolate, roses, a plethora of books and a large envelope. "My prat of a brother sent you all this?"

"I think he went overboard."

"Rubbish," Ginny plucked a chocolate out of the box and bit into it. "Oh, this is good, really good."

"You better hope that it didn't come from the shop."

Ginny shook her head. "It's not. George's chocolates taste a little different. This is like the chocolates Fleur gets from her parents. This is the expensive stuff."

Hermione opened the large envelope and saw a stack of parchment inside. "So what did he say?"

Hermione scanned the first page and blushed harder. She looked up over the top of the letter and Ginny saw Hermione's eyes grow wider.

"On second thought, don't bother. I don't want to know. You can tell me later if you are up for it."

Hermione stuffed the letter back in the envelope and put the lid back on the box. "I'll take this back upstairs."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. You don't want Luna oversharing with the whole hall."

Hermione picked up her satchel and the box. "I'll see you upstairs once you're finished eating."

"Yeah, and I'll knock first before coming into our room."

"That might be a wise idea." Hermione scuttled out of the Hall and left Ginny chuckling into her tea cup.

"You'd think she'd know how to react to a pervy letter by now."

* * *

Hermione sat on her bed in their shared room and lifted the lid on the box again. The roses were already in a vase on the bureau on the far wall, and the chocolates would keep for special occasions, unless Ginny ate them all.

The three books were ones she mentioned in passing over Christmas holidays. Ron spent quite a few galleons procuring them, on Elf rights, theories on Wizarding heritage in England, and a third regarding the travels of a Wizard in Renaissance England.

Ron had gone overboard, considering everything he'd procured. He was frugal with his money when it came to spending it on himself, but generous to a fault when it came to spending on her. Her gifts to him, a case of Chocolate Frogs as well as self-inking quills, seemed wholly inadequate after receiving this bounty of gifts from him.

She didn't dare tell Ginny that inside the envelope were risque images, all somehow from Ron's mind. They weren't that detailed, really, just charcoal on parchment. But they were obviously her, and obviously from the times they'd made love since getting together.

She could place the first one. It was from Boxing Day morning, spent together without interruption. They weren't due at her parent's residence until one in the afternoon so they spent the morning in bed, making love and talking about everything. The ribbon on her wrist gave away that morning.

The fireplace in their suite flared and Ron's voice boomed into the room. "Hermione, are you there?"

"Ron?" She turned and saw his face in the green flames. "What on earth are you doing calling this early in the morning? Is everything alright? What's wrong?"

"The only thing wrong is that I can't be there with you today, shagging you rotten in your bed."

"I know," She said forlornly. "But you've got work and on duty tonight."

"Yeah, working last night buggered things up. I'd have rather been there with you this morning instead of getting ready to go on shift at the Ministry." Hermione saw Ron rub his head through the flames. "Did you get my package I sent 2 days ago?"

"I got it this morning. You really didn't have to do so much, Ron. The books would have been more than enough."

"George said you'd say that. That's why he dragged me out into Muggle London on Tuesday to get the roses and Chocolates. He said if I'd only gotten you the books and the items in the envelope you'd hex my bollocks off."

Hermione looked at the sheet of parchment in her hands and held it up, blank side towards him, to show she'd received such an intimate gift. "Please tell me you didn't tell him about what was in the envelope."

"Are you mad? Hell no. Harry didn't even know about this idea. Brilliant, innit?"

Hermione pulled the letter out of the envelope and brought out the other pieces of parchment. She held each one up in front of the fire so Ron could see them. "Who did you get to draw these for you? Please tell me it wasn't anyone we know."

"Ah, no. Actually there's this woman who works for the Ministry, in MLS. Anyway, she has a special gift. She knows Occulumancy, and helps victims identify their attackers. She's been dead useful in helping us track down rogue Death Eaters. She uses magic to see what happened with the victim, then sketches what she saw in their mind."

Hermione sat back on her heels, completely gobsmacked.

"I asked her right after you left for the next term, and paid her some galleons. She agreed, and over the last month, when she has time, did these simple sketches for me. She's bonded to confidentiality, where she can't talk about the victims – or her clients."

Hermione looked at the fourth one and gasped. "You remembered this?"

"Of course I do, love. How could I forget? It was the best and worst day of my life."

Hermione held it up and saw the curving lines of the outline of her hair along with the slight swell of her breasts. "But I looked horrid that day."

"Bollocks. You're fucking beautiful to me."

Hermione finished rifling through the last of the sketches and stopped at the last one. "Ron, this one," she turned it around to show him, "it's beautiful."

"It's my favorite, really, moreso than the others. You came back to me."

Hermione looked at it and knew what day it was without asking. She awoke that day to bright blue eyes looking at her with so much love and relief and tenderness.

"I wanted you to know how much you mean to me. And since I can't draw worth shite, I thought this would suffice." She knew he was blushing by the way he wouldn't look at her. "Please tell me you like it."

Hermione looked into the flames and ignored the tears dripping down her cheeks. "It's gorgeous. I love it as much as the letter you sent with them."

A claxon rattled through the flames. "Shite. Gotta go, love. I'm on duty in an hour."

"Have a good day and don't work too hard."

"Same goes for you, love."

"Three weeks," she said quietly.

"Three weeks," he replies. "I love you."

"Love you too," she said back.

His head disappeared and the flames winked out.

Hermione sat on the floor for a moment before motion behind her alerted her. She whirled with her wand in her hand before dropping it immediately.

Ginny's Cheshire smile greeted her.

"Don't pick on him, please."

"Oh I'm not, at least not today," she cheeked back.

Hermione put the other drawings back in the envelope along with the rather pervy letter he'd written her. "You're as bad as the rest of them, you are."

Ginny went to her desk and put the Quidditch rules book prominently on top. "Yeah, and that's why you love me too."

Hermione chuckled. "Bint."

Ginny turned around and leaned against the desk. "Look who's talking."

The girls giggled.

"So what did he get you?"

Hermione handed over the last image from the stack while obscuring the rest. She'd have to charm them today so no one else could see how Ron saw her.

"Blimey, this is gorgeous."

"Yeah, I know, now."


	20. Rage against the Growing Light

**Rage against the Growing Light**

* * *

A/N: My apologies to Dylan Thomas Fans but this seemed like an appropriate title for what today is. - _DG_

* * *

Ginny stepped away from the smothering known as Mum's crushing hug. Ron and Hermione had slipped away from them a little while ago, with a space between them. Surely Harry was there, under his blasted cloak. But then after how she reacted earlier with him, it's no wonder that he wasn't having anything to do with her.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath before sliding away from the table.

Only Daddy saw her leaving. Only Daddy's myopic eyes saw the pain on her face, hidden under the mountains of raging anger. He nodded once and turned his attention back to Mum, giving her what little comfort he could afford.

She walked off, stalking out the great doors and away from the humanity that still drew breath.

The halls stunk in a way she knew would never escape her nostrils, air that would always trigger her. Here, away from the Great Hall, she could walk even if this wasn't where she wanted to go. Only the thought of _air_ and _escape_ screamed in her head, driving her further away from everyone she cared about.

Away from the rest of them, where she could have moments alone, where the crushing emotional burden would lessen.

She blindly found her way to the stairs leading to the Astronomy tower. Yes, this will work, she said to herself. Yes, this is the escape I need.

Each step up burned the lungs. Each step was one away from the ones she cherished most of all. Each grinding step tore the sinew in her legs, her scarred hips, her barely healed back. But it was also where she could go, short of flying on a broom above the obliterated Quidditch Pitch.

Cold clean air greeted her. It wasn't up on a broom, flying by the seat of her knickers, but it would do. Up here, the air didn't reek of blood, or smoke, or soot. It was quiet, almost too quiet. The wind blew but that was all that was heard.

"Hello Ginny."

She turned, wand in her hand with a vicious curse on her lips. She dropped it when she saw pale blonde hair, oversized blue eyes, and skin so pale you could almost see through it.

"Luna!" She stumbled over her trainers to her dear friend and enveloped her in a warm embrace. Seconds that felt like days passed, with only the bare warmth of her friend's hug keeping her upright.

"I saw you leaving and thought you might come up here."

Ginny put her head on her dear friend's shoulder and shoved down the cascading emotions rolling through her. "Damn, I missed you."

"You can thank Harry and Ron and Hermione for that. They helped me escape."

"But you were there with us, fighting. I saw you downstairs, helping Hermione."

Ginny released her friend when she felt a shudder course through her. "I had to. Hermione is my friend."

Ginny looked at Luna closely. Up close, almost nose to nose, she saw the changes in her friend. Gone was the child-like innocence she had. Gone were the quiet that made her cherished. Obliterated was the Luna she was before, now replaced with this broken one, certainly not healed, and all the more _dangerous._

"What happened?"

Luna squeezed her friend's hand and kept her head down. "You mean after I was kidnapped?"

"Yeah," Ginny whispered.

"Since you love me," Luna spoke in hushed breaths, "trust me. I'll tell you when I am able."

Ginny took a deep breath. "They hurt you, didn't they?"

"They did."

Ginny pulled her back to her, letting the rage she'd tamped down bloom again in fury. "Who?"

"You can't get revenge," she spoke into the soot covered jumper. "She's dead."

"Bellatrix," Ginny whispered. Luna shook softly.

Luna grasped her hand and squeezed.

"You're staying with me." It wasn't a question in Ginny's mind.

"I can't. I need to find Daddy."

"We'll get someone to find out for you."

Luna took a step and stopped. "Are you ready to go back down there?"

"No, but what choice to I have? They need me."

"Harry needs you too."

"Not after I treated him earlier."

"Yes, he does. He just doesn't realize it yet."

"Howso?"

"I was there and saw _them._" Luna smiled. "He needs a friend, too. He misses you."

"I doubt it," Ginny grumbled. She stalked to the railing and looked out over the scorched grounds. "If he missed me so, he had a funny way of showing it."

"You're angry at him when it's not his fault."

"I'm allowed to be angry, Luna. I thought he was dead!"

"I'm angry too," Luna said quietly, "and it hurts so much. But being mad at the ones we love only hurt ourselves. I'm not mad at Harry. Don't be mad either, not when he didn't start it."

"How can you say that? They hurt you!"

"Harry didn't. He didn't abandon you, not willingly. So don't be angry at him for doing what he had to do."

"He walked to his death, Luna, and didn't tell me."

"I know. You can be angry about that. But if you can't find a way to forgive him, he won't forgive himself."

Luna stepped towards the stairwell. "I'm getting some tea and pudding. Coming?"

The cauldron of emotions coursing through her soul hurt worse than any lashings the Carrows inflicted upon her. "Not yet, but I will. Tell Mum where I am."

Luna quietly left Ginny in the parapet, contemplating what she needed to do.

"The Carrows," she growled. She waited another minute before sprinting from her observation point. Someone had to be alerted of their presence in Ravenclaw tower.


	21. Those Gits

**A/N**: Since San Diego Comic Con was this weekend, and I was full of Star Wars glee, I thought finishing this prompt would be fantastic timing.

My thanks to Ladyknightley for the end of this. Hehehe. - _DG_

* * *

Ron plopped down onto the couch with a huge bucket of popcorn. Ever since Hermione introduced it to him at the theatre last year, anytime she asked for movie night, he wanted popcorn.

Harry, on the other hand, wanted sweets. "Rot your teeth, both of you," She'd joke with them.

She received guffaws as answers before turning on the telly. It took so much effort on Arthur's part to get the set to work in Grimmauld Place. But once he had it working, charmed for the house, they would watch on the nights that the four of them were actually home.

"Ron fell asleep the first time I played these movies for him, Harry, but you might have seen it."

The music started. It was bombastic, over the top, and pretty much epic.

Harry didn't move a muscle. "I still don't know which movie this is, Hermione."

"You will, Harry, in a second." Ron kept tucking into his bowl of popcorn.

The opening credits started rolling, bright yellow on a starscape background. "Oh, this one? They never let me watch it growing up. I only remember that Dudley had a strop because Uncle Vernon couldn't get him one of those light swords."

"Would you two knock it off? I'm trying to watch a movie," Ron imitated Hermione oh so well.

He pulled out the lights with the deluminator and the three of them settled into the movie.

"Oh blimey, look at him!" Ron muttered first. "Damn, that's some serious bollocks there. I'd hate to run into him in a dark alley. He'd have me pissing my pants."

Hermione glanced right and saw Harry settled back into the other chair, looking rather pale. "Harry? Alright there?"

He shook himself and saw Hermione's face. "Yeah, just a small flashback. Riddle had that same cold stare when I was in the graveyard."

She cast a spell at the telly to stop it. "If you're having flashbacks, we'll stop the movie."

Harry sat still a moment, wishing to himself that Ginny was snuggled into his side, sharing his sweets. They looked at him with concern on both their faces. "It's OK. I just remember the time in the graveyard when Cedric was killed."

"Oh," two voices replied in unison. Hermione pointed her wand again and the movie shut off.

"Don't," Harry begged. "I'm OK. Let's keep watching the movie."

"You sure mate?" Ron asked first. "Why don't you come sit with us? Not like I'm gonna give you a cuddle or anything but – "

"I'm good over here. I don't want to come between you and that bowl of popcorn."

"Git," Ron cheeked back.

"Yeah, I accept it."

Hermione pointed he wand back at the telly and reversed the charms. The movie picked back up where it stopped.

A young lady in white made her appearance, and disappearance. Two robots came and went, being picked up by the farm boy and changing his life.

"Hey, that reminds me of us chasing after you to go off on some adventure."

Harry laughed and tossed a sweet at Ron, who caught it and popped it into his mouth.

"Look at him! He looks a little like Dumbledore, 'cept without the fashionable robes."

Hermione kept quiet but held hands with Ron on the couch.

No one spoke when the ascetic and his protégé returned to the homestead to find his guardians brutally murdered. Hermione kept watching Harry and saw his face turn stoic.

The movie continued, watching the protagonist and mentor trying to rent a ship from a scruffy looking, blaster wielding scoundrel.

Ron nearly fell off the couch laughing, and Hermione was watching his reactions.

"Dude! That was so close!" Harry blurt out when he saw the ship escape mortal peril. "That reminds me of how we escaped Nagini."

Hermione got still and rather quiet once the movie went into transit towards rescuing the princess. "Problem, love?"

"Just remembering how Harry and I escaped the snake, and how much that hurt."

Ron pulled her even closer, almost inside his own clothes, to give her a comforting hug. "It's another reason why I love you," He whispered into her hair, "and another reason to celebrate why we're all still here."

"And they are just like Harry, and his noble saving people thing." Harry grinned while still glued to the images on the screen.

"_I've got a bad feeling about this_," the scoundrel complained when he couldn't escape the massive station's tractor beam, pulling them into the space station.

"Why didn't Harry say that on our adventures?"

"Ron, hush!" Hermione sniped at him.

The three watched as the characters escaped catastrophe after catastrophe, including some shirty banter from the princess.

"Blimey, she's just like you: bossy and demanding." Ron looked over and smirked at Hermione.

"And you remind me of that scoundrel, but only in a ginger package."

"At least I'm not a short, specy git like that one over there," Ron cheeked.

Harry threw another sweet at Ron but was captivated at the action on the screen. It hit him on the shoulder and bounced onto the floor.

"Wow. I thought our escape from the Devil's Snare was hair-raising."

"At least it didn't stink like that would have," Ron added. "Bet Kreacher would have a fit trying to clean that mess."

"It's a trash compactor, Ron. It's not a room to be cleaned." Hermione got up from the couch and returned quickly with two butterbeers and a cup of tea for her.

"Thanks," the other two offered while the four were racing to escape from the infiltration of the space station."

"_Ben,_" the protagonist stopped on the screen stopped. He had been fighting sword to sword with the antagonist. Harry watched while being reminded of the fight between Dumbledore and Riddle in the Ministry the night Sirius died.

Hermione shoved a hand over her mouth while the other two watched the mentor turn off his light sword. The antagonist took action and murdered the mentor.

"No," Harry groaned alongside the character on the screen.

Ron looked over Hermione's hair and saw Harry hiding his hand, from obviously wiping his eye. "Alright there, Harry?"

"Yeah," he whispered back. "Don't turn off the movie."

Hermione shook her head. "We won't."

The trio escaped, along with the walking fuzzball companion pilot and two robots for relative safety. "I bet they got a huge meal when they returned her safely," Ron said to no one in particular.

Hermione scrunched her features and tickled Ron mercilessly. "I take it back, all of it," He howled while trying to stifle his laughter.

"I thought so," she cheeked.

"Maybe we should skip this part," Hermione muttered under her breath. She pointed her wand at the television.

"I swear to Merlin, if you stop this movie again, I'm telling Ron to tickle you until you can't breathe," Harry spoke up.

Hermione put her wand back on the table and instead reached for her tea. "Well, then, ok."

They watched the desert farmer slide into the seat of his fighter after the scoundrel already buggered off. The protagonist and about a hundred were taking on the star ship they'd escaped from, a suicide mission if there ever was one, fighting for their lives, completely not realizing that there was a larger antagonist behind the black masked villain.

"Damn, that bad guy flies better than Harry on a broom."

Harry ignored the comment, enthralled at the action on the screen. He watched as the scoundrel returned, saving the protagonist's life by damaging the antagonist's fighter.

"_You're all clear, kid. Now let's blow this thing and go home._"

Harry sat up in his seat, on the edge of it. The explosion on the screen brought cheers to the men in the living room.

"_Great shot kid, that was one in a million._"

"I could say the same for when you put Riddle on his ass that last time."

The men shared smirks while Hermione rolled her eyes.

But even she stopped to watch the end scene with the melodramatic music playing for the rebel gathering.

Hermione sat quietly while the guys were watching the princess, draped in white robes, awarding medals to both of them.

"Oh bloody hell, not them too!" Harry groaned.

"What?"

"Those two gits on the telly. They looked at one another just like you two do."

"Did not!" they retorted in unison.

"See?"

Ron watched after Hermione rewound the tape a minute before restarting it.

"Blimey, I don't look like that git when I'm looking at her."

"Bollocks. You didn't see your face in the Room of Requirement fifth year when she put you on your bum."

"It's not true. Hermione, tell'em it's not true."

She blushed and looked away. "Yeah, it kinda was. I liked how you smiled at me so often."

Ron blushed and kept looking at Hermione.

Harry jumped up from his seat and knocked over his butterbeer. "Damn it," He grunted while working to clean the mess. The other two didn't notice.

"Look, if you're going to give each other goggle eyes, go take it to the other room!"

The spell between them broke and Harry appreciated that they didn't start snogging right there in front of him. Ginny was away tonight for the match tomorrow and not having his person to snog was painful enough.

"I'm starting the next movie." Harry said to the both of them.

"I'll plate us some sandwiches," Hermione added before making her way into their small galley kitchen.

"As long as mine's ham or roast beef."

"Ron, I don't get corned beef for you at all. You know that."

"But this git doesn't."

Harry threw a pillow at Ron and when Hermione returned, feathers were everywhere in their parlor, and the guys were down on the ground laughing too hard.

"Here, tuck in." They did gratefully.

Hermione started the second movie, the sequel to the first one, and the music started up again. "I so like this music."

"You think we should have this music play at our wedding?'

"Of course not!" Hermione chided Ron. "I want traditional music."

"Whoever said you gits were normal much less traditional?"

"You're just jealous I thought of it first."

Harry gave Ron a rude sign and tucked into his sandwich and crisps. "So good, Hermione."

"Thanks," she replied.

The three settled into watching the sequel, with her watching their reactions.

"_But sir, your tauntaun will freeze before you reach the first marker._"

"_Then I'll see you in Hell!_"

"Didn't I do that for you, Harry?"

"A fair bit, and I think I returned the favor a few times."

Hermione grinned because she knew that it was painfully true for both of the best friends in their life. They'd go rescue the other without batting an eye.

The scene shifted, with the protagonist going to fight the incoming landing army.

"_Go on and take off. I'll get her out on the Falcon._"

"See? He returned and did his part to help, not leaving her stranded awaiting capture."

"I'm quite well aware of that, Ron."

Harry threw another sweet at the couple. "Hush. I'm trying to watch the movie."

"_Hey, ya worship. I'm just trying to help._"

Hermione gave Ron a dirty look. "See?"

"_You could be a little nicer, though._"

"He's right, you know." Ron cheeked back.

"_Occasionally, maybe, when you're not acting like a scoundrel._"

"I am nice to you." Hermione added.

"_Scoundrel? I like the sound of that._"

Ron looked at Hermione and grinned.

"Would you two knock it off? I'm trying to watch a movie!" Harry reached for his wand and turned the sound up.

Ron pulled a cheeky face.

"_Stop. My hands are dirty._"

"_My hands are dirty too. What are you afraid of?_"

Harry looked over and saw Hermione snuggled into Ron's side, whispering in his ear.

"Oy! Still here!"

"_I happen to like nice men._"

Ron leaned over and turned her face. "You like me as a scoundrel," he muttered before kissing her.

Harry turned his chair a bit so he wouldn't have to see his two best friends snogging on the couch along with the two gits on the screen mimicking them.

"_Sir, Sir. I isolated the power coupling._"

"Yeah, you've done that a fair bit too, I reckon," Ron cheeked. Hermione was tucked into his neck, hiding her face from Harry.

"Naff off, wanker." Harry got up and went hunting for a packet of biscuits.

"They're in the bottom cabinet, behind the weetabix, Harry. I put them there just for you."

He opened the door and heard Ron complaining about hiding biscuits from him. "They're shortbreads and you hate shortbread biscuits," Harry heard Hermione explaining.

"You got that prat shortbreads? What did you get me?"

Hermione pointed her wand at the kitchen and spoke clearly, _Accio Jammy Dodgers. _

"Watch where you point that thing, Hermione! You just missed my nose!" Ron's biscuits came flying out and he caught them in his outstretched hand.

"Sorry," She replied contritely but Harry was still smiling. "Here, ya git." Harry handed over a butterbeer to Ron. "Figure that'll do 'til we get to sleep."

"Sleep? I thought we'd stay up all night, watch all the movies, then go to the match and get pissed."

"No, ya git. I said I'd watch two then crash. I've been up since 4pm yesterday. I'm knackered."

"And whose fault was that?" Ron gave Harry a very dirty look. "I told you about tonight a fortnight ago."

"Get mad at Ginny with her pre-match rituals." Harry refused to explain further.

"I don't want to know," Ron groaned.

They'd missed much of the whining from the protagonist while learning from a new mentor, and only caught the moments in the space cave.

"_This is no cave!_" They watched as the other group jetted out, barely escaping the space slug.

"Oh now that was just creepy."

"Space slugs? What gives? Sounds like someone got lost in the story."

"Says you, miss bookworm, who thought the Hallows were a myth."

"Don't make me silence you both," Harry growled while watching the protégé fail his mentor, in attitude and action.

"_And that is why you fail._"

"I'd hate to have him as a teacher. Bet he's as bad as Snape but only crazier."

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "There's more to him than what you see here."

"If you say so," Ron added.

"Just watch," she bit back. "The answers are in the last film, and we can watch that tomorrow night."

"But I'm on duty tomorrow night."

"And you can watch it with Ginny when we're not here."

The three of them settled back into the couch, with Harry watching intently while Ron dozed off in the middle of the Cloud City sequences.

"Hermione?"

"Yeah Harry?"

"I was serious. That scene in the last movie reminded me painfully of the two of you during DADA training."

She smiled softly. "I was scared, of losing his friendship, then. I thought I was acting so forward, kissing him on the cheek in front of everyone, but he blew it off." She sighed while watching the robot get blasted in the electronics closet. "And it got me nothing but heartache the next year when he took something said and let his anxiety and anger twist it into something corrupt, and hurt me in the process."

"He apologized, right?" Harry asked.

"Yes, he did, eventually, at Shell cottage."

"Good," Harry whispered back.

The scene shifted to where the protagonist was descending into the wood cave on the swamp planet.

"Sometimes, he'll say something, and it hurts, but he makes up for it once I tell him what he said bothered me." Hermione kept her eyes on the screen. "It's easier, now, sometimes, but it doesn't stop the hurt, just that we work through it together."

She watched the protagonist confront the masked figure, eventually killing his arch rival. "We talk more, and share more. It took so much to get us here. It's a miracle that we both can sit here on a Friday night, laughing at the movie with our best friend, when we could have easily thrown it aside in hateful words spoken in anger."

The gathering in Cloud City was captured, in an ambush, by the antagonist. They hauled them off, separating the scoundrel from the rest of them. Harry watched it stoically, shutting down when the scoundrel was screaming under the torture behind closed doors.

"I heard Ron screaming like this when I was with Bellatrix. He's the reason I'm still here with you."

Harry kept quiet but saw Ron was awake and listening too.

"Between his screaming, keeping me tethered to life, and knowing I had to protect you at all costs, even if that meant my life, I did it. It hurt, so much."

Harry saw Ron motioning quietly to get her to keep talking.

"_And they didn't even ask me any questions._"

"I had to lie to her, Harry. My life was forfeit when it came to protecting you. I promised myself that when you saved my life from the troll first year, you and Ron both. That's why I stayed."

The protagonist took off from the swamp planet to rescue his friends from the ambush. He quit his training because his friends were more important.

Ron and Harry shared a silent look and refused to interrupt Hermione making her confession.

"Just like them, Harry, I wasn't going to stand by and give up on you, or Ron. I could have, but I stayed, as much it tore my soul out and shattered my heart. But I needed that determination, so when I was confronted by that evil witch, I could face it with courage born of surviving worse things."

"_What's going on, old pal?_" Venom dripped off the scoundrel's voice at his betrayer.

"_You're being put into carbonite freeze_."

The men sat in silence, taking in Hermione's thoughts laid bare and raw before them, watching the scoundrel face his potential demise. And yet, in the face of mortality, the scoundrel took the kiss from the Princess before being ripped from her lips.

Hermione twisted in her seat, facing Ron. "I love you," Hermione whispered in unison with the Princess, looking at her lover fiercely.

"I know," Ron answered back before kissing her with so much passion. They fell back against the armrest away from Harry.

"I give up," Harry groaned and turned up the volume. "Not like they'll pay attention for the rest of the movie, I reckon."

He watched the protagonist fighting the masked antagonist, hearing the truth of his heritage and falling away in emotional agony.

His best friends were lost in their own little world.

Harry thought back to the memories given to him, in desperate hours given by a desperate man to finish the war. And yet, while the protagonist, given the futility of the situation, took his leave and escape, Harry had done the same in that graveyard so far away.

He looked over at the two on the couch, intertwined where you couldn't really tell where one began and the other ended. They went through enough to get to this point. They gave up so much for him, sharing Ron's home, Ron's family, and Hermione's love and focus for the future. It wasn't a wonder that they were still mental for one another.

They'd fight the world, and fight each other. They'd stand at his side and fight against all odds, even if he'd never asked them. They were his family, almost as much as Ginny was. They'd take him in at his worst, and welcome him with open arms. Ron was the brother he needed, one he could fight with and fight against everything else.

Hermione was his sister, born of another but still his sister in all but blood.

Those gits, much like the ones on the screen, were the reason he was who he was today.

Harry watched the ending, where the farm boy and the Princess watched the stars and probably were planning on how to rescue the scoundrel. But then didn't they both do that for Ron, after he left, and returned, saving his life, and hers?

Didn't they both owe their life to Ron, too?

The music started up, with the credits rolling, and the other couple was still in their own fantasy, making noises he didn't want to hear.

Harry silently disposed of the rubbish, and took the dishes to the kitchen to wash. Like the two gits on the screen, with their banter and push/pull, the two on the couch were chalk and cheese, and better for it.

"Goodnight," He whispered before closing the door to his bedroom. He locked and silenced it because he didn't want to hear anything else. He already knew enough that he loved them both, but like a long-lost brother.


	22. Auction

"So we'll just stop off at the Apothocary and get that order for George and then we'll grab lunch down at the Leaky. How does that sound?"

Hermione watched her boyfriend working hard, stacking shelves in the minutes before they were going to leave. He changed one uniform for another, wearing the garish suit that George insisted upon. The magenta and lime clashed with his ginger hair but it was the uniform for the shop.

He was off from the Aurors today, after successfully passing another training course. He was working for George, but since she'd arrived, he was gracious enough to give Ron an extended lunch, provided he run an errand for him. They were so busy, between her time apprenticing as a solicitor, studying, and working full time in the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures, while Ron was an Apprentice Auror and also working as he could with George.

The moments they could share were most precious, even after a year and a half of being together.

"It sounds good. I could use a lunch before going back to study in the Law Library at the Ministry."

"Don't forget to get my order, ya git," George yelled from the top of the moving ladder, trying to catch a rogue fanged frisbee. "The owner said the shipment was coming in this morning and he'd have my order ready at 11am."

"I'm not forgetting it, ya tosser. I know you need it for our next batch of daydream draughts."

Ron put the last box on the shelf and saw his girlfriend smiling at him. "What are you grinning at?"

"You and George. It's nice to see him doing well today."

"You missed it Tuesday. He was being a world class prat that day."

"I was not. You were moping because you hadn't seen Hermione in three days."

"I was not. You were talking bollocks in front of customers."

"That's enough," Hermione pleaded while pulling Ron towards the front door. "I'll have him back shortly, George."

"Bring my order back from the Leaky, too," George yelled at their departing backs.

"Blimey! It's nice to get a break today." Ron pulled Hermione into the alleyway next to the shop and curled her toes as much as her hair. It had been days since they were alone for more than a moment to do anything but sleep.

They eventually stepped out of the alleyway, once they were properly attired once more, and walked down the way towards the Apothecary.

"So what is his order, Ron?"

"He'd ordered a pound of sopophorous beans. They are right expensive and it's hard to get a consistent source. He also ordered a pound of asphodel and five pounds of wormwood, for which I don't have a clue what he's using for. I'm sure it's a potion ingredient in something he won't tell me about."

"Well, let's get it then get to lunch. I'm sure you're ready to tuck in."

"Well, breakfast was rather rushed," He cheeked while they walked hand in hand down the alley. "Since it was your idea to –"

"Not out here!" Hermione hissed before turning a gorgeous shade of red.

"Admit it, you love it."

She stopped and saw him smiling. "Well, that is fun but I love you."

Ron leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm starving."

"Of course you are," she replied back. They continued to walk down the alley to the apothecary, which was three doors down from the Leaky Cauldron.

They stepped inside the old oak doors and took a huge sniff. The aroma was comforting, with cinnamon mixed with vanilla beans, saffron and Indian Tandoori powders. The others, the more pungent, were kept in glass under cork tops.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley. I'm glad you're here. It seems there is a problem with the order."

"Problem?"

"Yeah, Wheezlebee. I'm here on behalf of St. Mungo's. We'd ordered a pound of sopophorous beans too and it seems the shipment only had one pound in it, not two, like the owner ordered for us. Since the Hospital has a greater need for them, to make calming draughts for their patients, you can't have it. Besides, we'd ordered first. You'll just have to wait on those beans."

Ron stepped in front of Draco Malfoy while frowning deeply. "That's a load of rubbish. George has a standing order and it comes in once a month. He's paid 10% premium to get it on a regular schedule."

Hermione stepped back from the two, silently taking her wand out of her pocket and keeping it hidden inside her cloak. The tension was palatable, and with those two and their history, it could come to blows or wands. The tension was palatable, and with those two and their history, it could come to blows or wands. Hermione didn't want the Aurors called on them.

"Sorry, Weasley, but the Hospital paid a premium for this order since theirs was stolen from their normal supplier last week. The hospital paid an twenty percent to get these beans."

"And that's just too bad since you can't just claim what isn't yours by saying your need is greater. We, George and I, paid for it in advance."

"You missed the part about paying a premium for it." Draco turned to the proprietor. "I'm offering fifteen percent above what I'd signed for."

"Well, I," the proprietor looked at Ron's bright red face, "it's for St. Mungo's and they do have a need, sir."

"And you're willing to toss aside your best playing client on account of this git's statement. He's not even in charge of approving the payments."

"And how would you know that, Wheezlebee?"

"Because I'm an Auror and know things. Your job at St. Mungo's is a junior apprentice potioneer, which is nothing more than an errand boy for those who do the actual potion making." Ron snorted at Draco. "They don't even trust your skills not to _poison_ anyone with a simple calming draught. But then cures were never your choice, were they?"

Hermione took a step back when she heard Ron's subtle yet direct threat.

Draco's face turned beet red. "Fine. Make it twenty five percent, since the hospital needs it. And you don't know me, Weasley."

"I know you well enough to punch you in the nose again, ya slimey git." Ron looked at the cowering owner. "And if you sell it to this git, after we paid for it ahead of time, I'll have George talk with the goblins at Gringott's and challenge the accounting."

"Oh Mr. Weasley, don't do that. I'd – "

"Then give me the order we already paid for and we'll be on our way."

"Fine. My offer is thirty three percent and we'll pay for the next shipment for Weasley."

Ron stepped right up to Draco, looking down his long nose. "You don't get it, do you? You can't take things that belong to others."

"And I'm not. I'm finding a supplier who can fix our loss for our patients. You're being a selfish git, Weasley. I already offered to purchase your next shipment to make up for the loss. That's how you do business. Take it or leave it but I'm not leaving without those beans for the patients."

"And you're attitude will cost us business for that month. We should charge your account personally for the losses we'll suffer by not having a product on the shelf this month."

"Alright, then, fifty percent and when the next shipment of the product comes it, we won't ask for it."

"But Mr. Malfoy," the owner of the shop threw his hands up, "that's well and above what we charge for three times that amount. It'll be at least another month, if not two, before that amount of beans are ready for purchase. It only grows in one area and it's hard to harvest since it's off the side of a particular mountain range in Afghanistan."

"Doesn't matter. The patients at the hospital need it. There are plenty in the Janus Thickney ward who need it more than most." Malfoy gave Ron a dirty look before turning his nose up at him.

"When we get back to the Wheezes, Mr. Cooper, I will talk with George about closing our account. You're selling our shipment to this git when we paid for it in advance."

"But Mr. Weasley," the proprietor begged.

Draco handed over the sack of galleons to the proprietor. "There's fifty galleons in here. That's my final offer, and you can bill the hospital for the rest. They," disdain dripped from his voice, "have the galleons to pay for it."

The owner looked at the two men, one looking smug and the other furious. "Fine. The git can have it. I'll talk with George and we'll get another supplier. But get us the rest of our order _now."_

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, right away Mr. Weasley." The owner toddled towards the back of the shop to get the other items they had on order.

Hermione stood on the back wall, near the Chinese spices, keeping her wand ready in case the men came to blows. But they stood in an awkward silence, a détente if you will.

"Oy!" George put his head in. "Got those things?"

"Yeah, 'cept the sopophorous beans. The owner sold it out from under us to this git," Ron pointed at Draco, wearing his required uniform, "for fifty percent above what we paid for it."

George threw his head back, laughing so hard. "The joke's on you, Malfoy. I already got my sopophorous beans from another supplier, at a third of what you just paid for half my order. Hope you enjoy telling the Director that you overpaid for those beans by 100%." George smirked harder. "So if you need more for the hospital, you'll have to call me. We can negotiate prices later."

Ron boggled at his brother. "Then why did you send me down here to get it?"

"Oh, I thought the beans wouldn't be in time but they arrived via Portkey ten minutes after you left. I ran down here after inspecting my cargo and shipment papers and weighing the supplies. Beans are dodgy right now, for some reason."

Ron turned and saw the incredulity at Draco's face.

"Here's the rest of your order, Mr. Weasley." The owner handed over the box to George. "Sorry about the beans."

"Just refund our account today and we're sorted."

"Yes, sir, right away sir. Very good, sir."

Ron looked at his brother in awe. "You're not mad?"

"No. It's business. Stuff happens." George ducked out with his case of supplies, floating in front of him.

Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and led her towards the door. "Nice doing business with you, Malfoy. Have fun explaining to the Hospital what you did." The couple departed, leaving Draco seething in the middle of the shop.

"You shouldn't have taunted him over it. That was rude."

"Git had it coming. His money shouldn't buy privilege."

"You knew going in what was going on, didn't you?" She stopped on the side of the Cauldron and scowled at Ron. "You taunted him and drove up the price in spite of him."

"I did not. I had no idea 'til that git there shoved his head in. I thought we needed that. I didn't know my brother was being a git again."

George stopped and looked at the younger couple. "I knew the git was coming. The owner sent me a memo earlier." George was smiling like a cat who ate the canary.

"You set this up," Hermione seethed. "And you let Ron act that way with the owner."

"Don't get mad at Ron. He didn't know. The owner knew, but Ron didn't."

"Why do you treat your brother like rubbish? He's helping you and you treat him worse than a house elf."

George looked lost for a second before regaining his composure. "Because my brother can't stand that slimey git and I knew that Ron would make a good show of it."

"But you let Malfoy win. What did that accomplish?"

"Who said he won?" George grinned wider. "That higher premium just kept my supplier in business for another year. He'd been having trouble with some of his shadier suppliers coming short on the amounts. That extra benefit can hire a solicitor and sue the suppliers who are shorting him."

"You did that to help him?"

"Well, yeah. His business was on its last legs at the end of the war and he'd wiped out his wealth trying to hang on. That small premium, and getting the hospital as a dedicated client, just saved his business."

"Do you know who nicked the hospital's supply of sopophorous beans?"

"No bloody clue," he looked around and whistled some. "But it was good fortune my supplier will be able to stay in business." He smiled at the couple. "Here, lunch is on me. But don't be late getting back. I don't want to think you've been shagging when you're on my clock."

Hermione blushed hard while George walked away laughing.

"The nerve of that git," Ron growled.

Hermione slid her hand into his and pulled him up towards the pub. "Well, he did buy lunch for us."

"But it would be quite nice if I walked back into work with a smug smile on my face."

"Why don't you and let him think you did?"

They found a booth back near the bar. "Are you offering?"

"I am, but for tonight." She whispered in his ear.

"Smart witch, you are."


	23. Mental

**A/N:** I realize the original requester probably was thinking something smutty but it's going in a whole different direction. So, having said that, it's rated T for Ron's filthy mouth, adult situations, and Hermione in her knickers. NO smut and no nudity. - _DG_

* * *

Bloody fucking cold.

It wasn't warm outside, either. Sodding Bloody January in the middle of no-fuck-where I am and I'm stuck on watch. Harry wandered out to look for more wood for a fire that didn't need it but it was either stay out here, on watch, outside the bloody tent and away from Hermione's fit of temper or in there and have to put up with that heart-breaking look on her face.

Where did I get the bloody idea that I'd be welcome back? Sure, Harry told me that they weren't that way with one another. I believed the bloke. But then she nearly beat my head in when I returned then won't even stay in the bloody tent when I'm awake.

That look on her face tore me up. How can you be forgiven for what I did? Why should she forgive me?

Harry told me that when I was _gone_ they barely talked. He admitted that there were days, weeks even, when she'd put on some brave front, but he'd hear her, just outside the tent, on a crying jag. But she's his sister. She never turned his head and I'd bet that it's more than just boosting my fragile ego.

I don't deserve her. I don't deserve him. But I'm here.

The whole damn thing is mental.

You'd think anyone being that beastly when I returned, even after saving that speccy git's life wouldn't be so damn violent. Then again, she did attack me with magical canaries when I cocked things up last year with Lavender.

Why did I expect anything less? I bloody walked out on them. Completely mental that Harry forgave me.

I should sit out here 'til next winter. Bout all I deserve.

"Hey, come in. It's too cold outside to stay out here."

"You go on in. I'm tired of freezing in there. I rather freeze out here."

"You're mad. Come in. She'll get over it sometime."

"Fuck, Harry. It's been a bloody fortnight."

"And it's Hermione. You know she holds a grudge until she can work it out, just like you do."

"I don't," I protested.

"Bollocks. You rowed with me before leaving, even as she begged you to stay."

"Thanks for reminding me. Want me to obliviate myself of that moment in my pathetic existence?"

"No, you git. I'm saying that she gets mad and has to work it out, just like you do. She didn't talk to you for months last year because you went and got yourself in a spot of bother with Lavender because you were in a bloody strop."

"Brilliant idea that was," I grumbled morbidly. "You think we can _not_ talk about Lavender and all the mess I made?"

"Fine, but you're still coming in with me. The worst she will do is conjure some baby dragons to attack you, I reckon. But since she's not done that yet, she might just keep up the cold shoulder."

"I'd rather her conjure baby dragons. At least I'd know how to deal with them. I dunno how to deal with a Hermione that hates me, even if she's right."

"She doesn't hate you," Harry gave me a look. "If she hated you, she'd have just looked at you and went about her business. She didn't."

"You think?"

"I spent many a night out here because I couldn't cope with her crying. She wasn't crying about me."

"Shite."

"Now come in. If she's still quiet, I'll pull out the chess set."

"You're pants at chess, Harry."

"Would you rather beat me at chess or be ignored by Hermione?"

"Hate when you're right," I complained. Damn, my arse was cold from the frozen ground and I think my bollocks took up residence inside my stomach. But I followed that smarmy git inside the tent. He went to the cooker for a kettle of tea for all of us.

I shed my jacket and peeled off my second jumper and when I opened my eyes I looked into the loo. "The bloody hell?" I gazed towards the corner of the tent where the miniscule bathroom was and Fuck! My tongue hit the roof of my mouth and something else was taking notice, too.

The girl I'd fancied for years was standing just inside the curtain of the loo, obviously forgetting to close the drapes.

She was standing there in her knickers and bra.

Damn. Sprout in a bikini. Mum in a Bikini. Damn. Snape in his pants. Me in my pants. Spiders wearing pants.

Harry turned and saw her too. "Merlin, again?" Harry groaned and turned back to the cooker for the kettle. "I didn't need to see that," Harry grumbled. "Close the damn curtains."

Merlin, I can't move. It's Hermione but she looks nothing like I guess how she looked under her robes. I know the turn of her calf and small indentations at her hips, above the waistband of her skirt. I know that soft curve of her collarbone and that small freckle behind her right ear that she shows when she moves her hair while swotting.

But fuck! Hermione looks nothing like I know her. She looks thin, thinner than I ever knew her. She's painfully thin, like after I had my last growth spurt and Mum had to find some of Percy's old trousers to fit me. The soft curves of her hips I knew she had last summer disappeared and the expanse of back that had me wanking was gone, replaced by the outline of her backbone. The figure she had when she'd come early to the house, before we retrieved Harry was completely gone.

She looks terrible. This Hermione was nothing but skin and bones, as Mum would say.

She could do with a month's worth of meals. Hell, maybe three months.

"Ron, stop that," Harry hissed.

I took a step aside but continued to watch Hermione. "Did you know she was that thin?"

"Yeah. Isn't she always?"

"No, you git. She looks sick."

Harry pulled the kettle off the stove top and pulled some tea leaves from the container next to the stove. "If she is, she's not said anything to me."

"You said you barely talked while I was gone."

"Well, yeah, I did."

I stuck my head back out, past the fabric wall, and saw her in the mirror while she brushed out her hair. Her face looked thin, too, with her cheekbones sticking out and her lips cracked. Deep bruises marred her eyes, too.

"Did you get to hit up some grocers while I was gone?" I kept staring at her while she wasn't watching. "Hot meal at a pub?"

"It's not like we could hit a pub to eat every night. We couldn't risk running into snatchers. Those times when we did have a decent meal, she ate a little but left the most for me. I asked one time and she said she wasn't hungry."

"You prat. No wonder why she looks death warmed over."

"Don't blame me for her not eating."

"I'm not. I'm saying she looks sick."

"I wouldn't know. I don't have a basis of comparison."

"Surely you looked once!"

"No, I didn't. I don't look at Hermione that way."

I stuck my head out again and saw Hermione brushing her teeth. Her skin was very pale, after having lost last summer's tan. Every bone in her back showed, along with her arm. She stood up and I bit my tongue and thought revolting things again. She was wearing a faded pink bra and her rib bones stuck out from her chest.

It looked like it didn't fit her right which didn't make sense. I know girls wear their undergarments to fit. I listened to Lavender just enough to know that. I got to see it quite often, the bint. But Hermione looked like she'd borrowed one of Ginny's and it hung in the wrong ways in the wrong places. It looked like it was worn out and two sizes too big on her. But I know that's not right either.

"We need to get Hermione to eat." I saw that we had a little bit to make a meal. "Hermione looks wretched."

"And how do we do that without getting caught, Ron?"

"Fuck if I know but if you're hungry and I'm hungry, and you say that Hermione isn't eating much, then we have a problem."

"Yeah, and what's that?" Harry poured out two cups of tea, keeping the rest warm for Hermione.

"If she falls over dead from starvation, you git, we're fucked."

"She'd say if she was hungry, you prat. She's not said a thing."

"She'd not tell you. She'd bleed out first than complain to you about anything bothering her. You know that!"

"No, I don't."

"Are you really that thick?" I glared at my best mate for being that stupid.

"Harry, did you make tea?" a softer voice came from across the tent.

"Yeah, Hermione. I did. I've got some for you when you're done in the loo."

"I'll be out in a minute."

"See?" Harry hissed. "She's fine. She'd tell me if something was wrong."

"And you're a git. She's not fine."

I took my cup and sat down at the table, knowing she'd refuse to acknowledge me. But this time, I wanted to observe and not talk. She'd do exactly like I want right now.

She walked out a minute later, bundled up in boots, jeans, two jumpers and a huge scarf with a knit hat. Under her attire, she looked normal. But I also saw that she was hiding the shadows I saw under her eyes five minutes ago, probably with charms, and had put gloves on, hiding her fingers. I'm glad she ignored me this time.

"Thanks, Harry."

"I'll take watch." I finished my cup and glared at Harry before going back to my bunk to get my jacket and wand. I had a ton to think about between now and in the morning.

"But Ron?"

Of course Hermione would ask Harry and not me. But then I know she'll talk to me eventually – maybe when Hell freezes over outside. Only question I'd have is will I survive the freeze that long.

I didn't look at the other two but finished bundling up for the cold night. At least my warming charms would save my bollocks again.

But fuck all I couldn't let her see I was upset at both of them. Harry's a selfish twat, especially for not looking after Hermione. I'm pissed that he didn't notice that she wasn't eating and ignoring her shrinking away.

I can't let Hermione know I'm mad at her for not taking care of herself.

I walked back outside and sat down on the cushion at the opening of the tent, trying to find a reasonably comfortable place that didn't irritate my arse. I wiggled and found a reasonably comfortable spot.

If I'm honest, I know she's not eating because she was sick with worry, about me. It stings something fierce to know that it's all my fault. A Firecrab sting would hurt less.

Merlin, this whole damn thing is completely mental.

I have to do something about it. Since Harry's pants at taking care of them, I better do it.

If I don't, I might have two best friends who can't save anyone, not even themselves.

I blew out a deep breath, watching it freeze in front of my face.

Yes. Sod all but I can take care of them. That's what I will do. I'll look after them, and make sure they live through this hell.


	24. Third Time

**A/N:** This was first published from a prompt in my box for Months on Tumblr, but it was also most appropriate as an outtake for the Epilogue to Vows - which is now up so I can't spoil myself too much. There will be another posted alongside this one, for the fans in rated T, for grotty language only.

Aside from this, there are still 3 outtakes I wish to write, of which I've not started yet. - _DG_

* * *

Lunch was the closest to stolen hours like in her last year in quite some time. But then they were both busier than 1999 was. They walked side by side in from Diagon Alley into the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione had to be back at her desk at half one and he was due in the shop at 2 to help George on the back to school rush. He had a few more hours before he was due on shift with the Aurors at 8pm.

Rushing from one obligation to the next stressed their marriage unlike the other problems they previously endured.

The Ministry was different on a Friday afternoon. It wasn't crowded, noisy, or even smelled the same. Ron had spent his share of elbow to elbow in the last week with the Aurors on the current mission and his few days off field assignments were a comfort.

He winked at her and she smiled back. They stepped into an empty lift and didn't pay attention to the ride until the door dinged open.

Hermione stepped out first and adjusted her jacket and tucked her hair back into a bun. Ron followed her out, letting her walk in front of him. The view was quite nice. But she was hiding his enthusiasm.

Neither needed the mickey taken for snogging and more in the lift, not when they were walking towards the Department of Law Enforcement. She was busy on her first case and he could only see her in stolen hours on lunch breaks and when he came home at half four in the morning.

He watched her return to her desk and departed silently. He knew his wife. He understood that once she was at her desk, she was back to being a junior grade Solicitor with an important case.

The ride up the lifts and the trip through the Floo were mercifully short. Ron had slept maybe five hours, between his morning's leg over and then meeting Hermione for a slightly later lunch. He was scheduled to work from two until closing before going coming back to his desk and working until half four tomorrow morning. He'd greet his wife at home, have something to tuck into, and crash until much later.

If George didn't pay him so well for the help and he wasn't saving his extra galleons for a place of their own, he'd have blown off working tonight and gone back to the flat for a few hours nap.

"Look Fergus, it's that blood traitor Weasley. Wonder where the sodding Mudblood is at?"

"Surprised she's not acting like a one knut whore down the other alley?"

Ron stopped instantly and turned towards the booth where he saw three wizards sitting to themselves, nursing pints of ale. "Excuse me," he inquired politely. "Did I hear you right?"

"What's it to you, feckin' wanker?" the first old man slurred. "You're not worth the warm piss I'd pour outta me boot."

Ron snorted in disgust. "I should tell Hannah to cut you off. You're too deep in the drink, you are."

The third man, about ten years older than Ron, stood up from the booth. "He's speaking truth, he is. You are a blood traitor and we be seeing ye with that jumped up Mudblood in the papers. You're not worth the shite under me boot and she needs to take her arse back 'ome."

Ron stood before the man, towering over him by six inches and easily three stone. He shifted his stance without being noticed before pocketing his wand in his holster on his leg.

"Insult me all you want but leave her out of it." He'd learned from Hermione that speaking quietly did more than shouting until you were hoarse.

The younger man, standing before Ron, shoved a finger into his chest. "I'll speak my mind and no sodding blood traitor's gonna tell me what for. Shove off and leave us be."

Ron looked at the finger pressing into his chest.

"Shove your finger back in before I remove it for you," he spoke quietly, full of danger.

The other bloke was pissed. He put a second hand onto Ron and tried to shove him backwards into the table behind him.

Ron didn't budge.

The two older wizards at the table laughed at the younger man's feeble attempt to remove Ron from their presence. "Weak arsed little shite. He's no bigger than a turnip sack."

Ron snorted again.

"You're stronger than he is."

"Shut your piehole!" Ron told'em off again.

The younger wizard laughed and took a swing at Ron.

Ron moved much faster than his attacker, twisting his attacker's outstretched arm and twisting it behind his flailing body. He spun the attacker and shoved his face into the table behind him. "You're under arrest for assaulting an Auror." Ron pulled the Portkey cuffs out of his thigh pocket and slammed them onto the suspect. He disappeared immediately, transported to the Ministry holding cells.

"Where'd my boy go? You bring him back now!"

Ron twisted and slipped on his bootstring, falling to the ground while missing the spell flashing over his head. He rolled again and pointed his wand at the second wizard, stunning him in his seat. The third one was trapped next to the wall, hindered by the table and the older wizard holding him down.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll drop your wand and take this one home."

"Problem Ron?" Hannah walked over with her wand in one hand and a huge tankard in the other.

"Yeah, these two need to be cut off. They're too deep in their drink to know that attacking an Auror is a bad job."

"Jannon, take Fergus out of here. I don't want to see you for a month's time. I see you, I call him to throw both of you outta my pub and get a swift kick in the arse from me."

"But what about Kiernan? Where's he at?"

"He's at the Ministry, in a holding cell." Ron pointed his wand at the older wizard, the one who pulled his wand on Ron. He silently sobered him up and woke him as well.

The older wizard looked up from the table and saw Ron towering over him. "The next time you try to stun an Auror, I won't be kind enough to sober you up and let you go. Kiernan is in a holding cell and will be there 'til the morning. I'd suggest to him that having a possible fistfight with an Auror is a bad job."

Ron stepped back from the table. He let Hannah come in front of him, but with his wand now in his hand.

"You sods get out now. You've already hindered my business enough today." Hannah tapped her wand on her apron and shot little sparks out of it.

"My apologies about me family, miss." The second wizard took Fergus out of the pub and down the street.

"What was that about Hannah?"

"They're drunkards without much sense. They come in, talk bollocks and try to start something for a row. One runs his mouth and they get roughed up. Typical sods too deep in their cups."

"Well, if they come back trying to start something, let me know. I'll be up at the shop."

Ron checked his watch and saw he needed to hustle up to be on time. "I'll order around half six. My usual," He told her before turning for the door.

"I'll send it up later when it's ready," She yelled back as he hit the door and took off at a trot towards the wheezes.

He was halfway up the alley when he tripped on a cobble. He stumbled and a spell flashed over his head. He rolled and fired at the direction which the spell came. One man yelled and Ron ducked behind a doorway, trying to see his attackers.

Ron saw them under cover on the edge of Knockturn Alley, hiding in a doorway. He was exposed from their position but he couldn't run for it.

They fired again, at the same time. He jumped from the doorway, just missing the explosion that blew out the wood door of the Apothecary. He fired again, stunning the first assailant.

The other wizard tried to Apparate away and landed where he started. "Feckin' Aurors!" The wizard fired again towards Ron. The spell incinerated the doorway around him. Flames were licking at his cloak.

He had to run.

He took off at a sprint towards the Wheezes. His arm was outstretched, almost to the knob to the shop.

Darkness fell over him.

* * *

Ron opened his eyes and saw brown ones looking down at him. "Ronnie, my boy, what have I told you about fighting?"

"Bloody hell," he growled back. He sat up and George shoved him back down onto the warm cobblestones in front of the store.

"Easy there, you pillock. You took a nasty spill. The Healer is on his way to check you over."

"Who was it? Was it Avery or Dolohov?"

"Nah. Some old wizards who were mental 'cause you arrested the son of one."

"Knobhead called Hermione a Mudblood and said it where I could hear it. They were picking a fight and so I took care of it."

"He said you started it in the Pub."

"Rubbish. I ended it. I was going to let the git sleep it off and release him with a warning in the morning. I come out, trying to get to work and those assholes attack me."

"Dumb sods picked on the wrong Weasley, didn't they?" George looked up and grimaced. "Oh blimey. Your wife is here."

Ron complained crudely.

"I came as soon as I heard. Are you alright?"

"Bastard got lucky with a stunner. I'm fine. This git here," Ron pointed at a grinning George, "won't let me up until the Healer gets here to check me over."

"I'll check you over," she muttered and pulled the wand from her arm. She ran it around his head and torso. "Nothing broken but I think a trip to St. Mungo's might be in order."

"I've taken worse spills at home. I'm fine." Ron managed to check his cheek where it was sore.

"And you're a git. You could be hurt inside that head of yours. She's admitted that she loves you for your mind, you know." Mirth was plastered all over George's face.

"He's right. You could be hurt worse than you think." She knelt on the cobblestones at his head. "We could go over there if the Healer isn't here in a minute."

"Sure, and then you can take me home and nurse me back to health," he quietly requested.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "I can't leave work today. You know that!"

"And yet you're still here," George cheeked.

"That would be nice, though." Ron's smile faded.

"I know," Hermione found his hand and squeezed it. Hermione looked around once again and saw no one else present. "George, help me lift him up."

They worked to get Ron standing. "See, I'm fine."

"And you still look like a Troll."

Ron gave George a rude hand gesture behind his back. George chortled in the alley. They slowly made their way to the Wheezes.

"I'll take him to St. Mungo's then I have to get back to work."

"Sod that, Hermione. You can work tomorrow. Ron needs you." George winked at his brother.

She pouted. "Alright. I'll stay. But I'll have to go in tomorrow. My case starts Monday."

The two of them made it to the Wheezes fireplace. George threw in Floo powder and spoke in a clear voice, St. Mungo's. The newlyweds disappeared in a flash of green flames.


	25. Dark Corners

Hermione put down her quill and pushed aside the twelve feet of parchment aside on her desk. This case was going to either break her or save her. Either way, she'd accepted the case and now wasn't the time to whine about how heavy the load was.

It wasn't like there was anyone else in the department honest enough to not let the case fail before the Wizengamot, either because of blackmail or sympathetic feelings.

So many people depended on her efforts to keep the murderer behind concrete walls forever.

She stepped away from her desk, right in the middle of the Department of Law Enforcement. Her destination for this trip was the Minister's personal Library, inside the Archives. Madame Muggeridge had been a tremendous asset in the research she needed in Pureblood laws from the last two centuries. Her knowledge of esoteric Wizarding Law saved Hermione weeks of research time and gave her the laws, facts, and information needed to bring so many more charges in the case. Even with the diligent research, and Madame Muggeridge signing off on the information, it took Hermione a month to justify to her Director the vast amount of charges she brought to the case, not including all of the murders he committed.

On the first day, when the charges were being read into the official record, she hadn't even charged him with all of the murders on his hands. She'd only dictated the accounting in front of the entire Wizengamot the murders on his hands, at least the ones he'd personally acknowledged. No, she'd decided that she'd keep half of them out of the charge list, as a back-up in case the Wizengamot released him from custody out of Pureblood alliances.

She was going to make sure he'd stay inside the grey walls of Azkaban for the rest of his days.

She walked into the Archives and stood still for a moment. The place was old, with leather and wood and brass fixtures and gas lamps on the walls, stretching floors above her head. The smell of ink and parchment were as comforting as fresh mown grass and Ron's hair.

Ron.

She opened her eyes and smiled, thinking about being enveloped by his scent earlier this morning. His long arms, legs, bony hips and tussled hair were her aphrodisiac. There was so much comfort being surrounded by her husband when she was so busy on this case. Those precious moments felt like stealing from someone else's life. He'd made a point the last two weeks to help keep her stress level down, from cooking meals for her, picking up his socks in their bedroom, and even pulling her into embraces that turned more passionate to help cope with the pressure and let her catch a few hours of sleep.

She shook her head away from the memories of Ron and stepped among the stacks of books. She passed the bulk of the tables in the middle of the library. Soft light drifted from there to among the stacks she walked. Witches and wizards were present, doing their own research, keeping the ministry ticking along. One would occasionally nod their head her way or smile, but otherwise, in here, it was a library bar none, where you could spend hours and day without being bothered.

Her task was simple – making her way to the Ministerial archive. Here, there was more dust and old parchment smell. But then this section was also where the Wizarding History was stored, too. She needed a particular reference from a case in 1835 to support her charge of unlawful kidnapping of another man's wife. She'd had it earlier but the information was buried in 50 feet of parchment notes from three months prior.

It was quite easier to get the book and page again.

She slid to the right stack of shelves, books containing the memoirs and historical records of the previous Ministers of Magic. She pulled the vital one, the previous Muggle Minister of Magic, and watched the shelving slide to the right.

She didn't realize she was being watched.

She stepped into the expansive alcove of private books when she was shoved harder into the room. "Ron," she whispered.

She stumbled into the shelving in front of her, knocking down half a dozen of reasonably new books on the shelf. She turned, bearing her vinewood wand from her skirt pocket. She had the spell half-formed before her wand was yanked out of her hands non-verbally.

She stood up from the shelving and he dropped her to the ground, painfully, punching her in the face. She groaned and felt a kick in the ribs.

"Fancy catching you in here, Solicitor." The veiled venom dripped from the disillusioned figure. He dropped her to the ground. "Not so powerful without your wand, are you? Just another weakling."

She struggled to right her balance but crawled towards the back wall, putting a solid surface behind her. Her ribs ached and it hurt to breathe.

"It seems you're not getting away this time, Miss Granger."

She glared at the area where the voice was speaking. Between the wizard's disillusionment and the shadows from the gas lamps in here, it was hard to see where he was hiding.

"I don't care how you do it, solicitor, but no matter what, you're going to lose this case. He will be released and he will walk out of that chamber. You will not prosecute him again once he's freed."

"No, I won't." In the darkness of the room, she silently unsheathed her second wand, the one she'd earned through blood and tears. "I am an officer of the court and my duty is to it, and the Wizengamot. You cannot compromise my duty. You will not threaten me to lose a case."

"It's either lose the case or lose your life, here, right now." The tip of the wand pointed at her illuminated, showing a second wand over the wizard's shoulder.

"You won't kill me. There's no escape from this room."

"You're hilarious, Granger, considering you are wandless. I can escape and will not pay for murdering you. I will be quietly celebrated among proper society for cleansing your filth from our ranks."

"I will not yield," she spoke with as much steel as she could muster. She had the spell on her lips. But was she fast enough to drop him where he stood.

The hidden wizard silently cast a spell, hitting the book behind her and exploding the parchment.

"I said throw the case, witch."

"You think that little demonstration is supposed to scare me? You think that you can frighten me into doing your yielding, when you're the coward hiding in the dark corners trying to intimidate me? You're mental if you think that. You don't frighten me."

Quiet feet shuffled back a few steps. "Your remains will be found in here, nothing but ashes, and only that pathetic excuse of a Pureblood will mourn you."

"I'm not pathetic," Ron growled into the wizard's ear while Hermione lifted the black walnut wand in her hand and silently cast her spell. It hit him square in the chest , knocking him and Ron into the far back wall.

Ron!" She screamed bloody murder. She struggled to get up from the ground, wheezing from where she'd been kicked in the ribs and punched in the face. She tried to shove the stunned wizard off Ron but couldn't manage it.

"I'm alright," He groaned. Ron pushed harder and shoved the unconscious wizard of him then scrambled to his feet.

"Are you hurt?" she inquired. Deft fingers touched his face and shoulders.

"Nah, just surprised. That was one hell of a stunner, Hermione." Ron illuminated his wand. "Bloody hell, he hit you!"

Ron touched her face and cheek. "He did, just to get me thrown off." She spat blood and a tooth out. "He kicked me, though."

"You need a healer."

"No, I want the Wizengamot to see me like this on Monday. They won't stop me prosecuting this case."

"You're mental. You might have a broken rib. I'm taking you to a healer.

"We agreed on that years ago. And I will, with you, once we find out who this is."

Ron cast another spell and secured him with ropes everywhere. A last spell removed the disillusionment from his face. "Bloody hell! I know him."

"That's James Richardson," Hermione spoked over Ron. "He's the Director of the International Wizarding Confederation and best friends with the Mugwump. This is a serious problem." Hermione wrapped her arms around her ribs to keep the pain at bay. "Are we sure it's him and not someone else under Polyjuice?"

"We'll know in a day, I reckon. Robards is going to have my head on a pike for this."

"Why? You saved my life. He was willing to torch the archives to murder me."

"I know. I heard him." Ron looked around further. "Shite. We need to get him down to a cell. But I need the Director's help." Ron brought up his happiest memory and his terrier popped into existence. "Director, you're needed at the Minister's private Archives. Hermione was attacked. Wizard was apprehended but it's politically complicated. You're needed immediately."

The terrier ran out.

Five minutes later and after one snogging, The Director walked into the private chamber. "This better be good, Weasley." He stopped when he saw Hermione's face. "Who assaulted you?"

She pointed at the still-stunned wizard on the ground.

"You were right to call me, Weasley. Oh this is going to be a huge problem. Take Granger out of here. I have to call in a favor for this. And the Minister has to be told."

"Sir?"

"Take her to the Auror infirmary now. You can write your reports when she's cleared. She is to not leave your sight until this case is finished. As of now, she is your only duty, Weasley."

"Yes, sir." Ron pulled Hermione close to him, with his wand out, and escorted her to the lifts.


	26. Sunshine

**A/N:** Here you are, a slightly fluffy one for those of you in Branson. Written from a prompt from last year on Tumblr that I finally got around to writing.

**Rated K** cause they are kids and they aren't adults in the least. - _DG_

* * *

"Mind if I help?" Ron sat quietly across from Hermione in the library. He looked across the table at Hermione and the hours of work she already did in her spare time. "I'd have been here sooner but I was helping Harry with a spot of bother on his homework."

"Which means you let him copy your homework which I helped you with," she cheeked. The table was covered in dozens of books, legal tomes mostly, in her attempt to assist Hagrid with his defense of Buckbeak. Ron offered to help last week and showed up sometimes, helping her dig through dusty books trying to find any legal loophole to help Hagrid's fight against Malfoy and his trumped up charges.

"It was a foot of parchment on charms. You didn't need to help with that particular one, I reckon," He spoke in a loud whisper. "But he finished then ran off for Quidditch practice. They have him riding a Comet and it's horrible. But while he's doing that, I wanted to be able to help for a while and since you were in here," he shrugged before opening his bag and taking out quills, ink, and parchment. "Hand me a book and I can get started."

Hermione pushed two books across the table to Ron and watched him settle into a particular one she handed him. She watched him throw things onto the table, unlike how she had everything neatly laid out on her side of the table. He picked up the first book she pushed towards him and propped it on his bag.

She went back to work on the entries in her book, regarding ancient Wizengamot case rulings regarding Magical creatures.

"Have you found anything yet?"

Hermione looked up from her parchment and quill and saw Ron running his hands through his hair. The light from the afternoon sun hit the window and illuminated his ginger hair, giving the illusion of it being on fire.

She sucked in her breath and looked down at the parchment, praying he wouldn't notice the flush in her cheeks that was spreading quickly to –

"Hey, you ok? You look like a tomato in mum's garden."

"I'm fine," Hermione muttered and frantically scribbled something on the parchment. "I just read a comment in here about execution methods and I got angry."

"Oh, yeah, right. That would be upsetting." Ron pulled his book closer and went back to reading.

Hermione looked up from the parchment and watched the sunlight dancing along his hairs, making some shine like gold while others were the brightest orange around. She looked down at her parchment and saw her hands shaking slightly. Another blush crept along her cheeks and across her neck and ears, creeping down her chest which was, thankfully, covered by her jumper.

She glanced again at him, twirling his quill and occasionally writing something down. His fingers never stayed still one the parchment, whether tapping it or twirling the quill or even picking up the small tin of sweets he snuck into the library, nibbling on them occasionally.

They were so long, so pale in comparison to the book on the table and the parchment under his gaze.

"Hermione, what have you found?"

She looked up from the parchment that she'd ignored the last fifteen minutes while contemplating his hair basking in the sunlight.

"Nothing useful yet. I probably should look in the next one since this hasn't been helpful."

Ron picked up another one too, blowing the dust off of it. She moaned slightly at watching how his lips formed a straight line then puffed out when he blew the dust off of it.

"Ron, do you –"

"Hey! I just got back from Hagrid's," Harry interrupted her question, "and he said the hearing is coming up after the first of the year."

Hermione glared at Harry.

"What?" he bit back.

"You interrupted me."

"Oh sorry. Go ahead."

"Nevermind," she looked wistfully at Ron and his now normal looking hair. She glanced outside and saw the sun had drifted behind clouds that looked like snow was coming.

"Oh. Ok. Anyway, he said that the hearing is after Christmas and he's appreciating all the help he can get."

Hermione stood before packing her satchel of parchment. "Coming? It's almost supper time. We can put our things in the common room before dinner.

She strode out of the library with both of the guys in tow. They talked Quidditch and the menu tonight in the great hall while ignoring her. Harry lamented the destruction of his Nimbus 2000 and that it wasn't worth practicing on Ron's Cleansweep.

They stepped into the common room and went up their respective stairs to their rooms, depositing things instead of laying them around.

Hermione was back down first, thinking about Ron sitting in the sunlight and how nice he looked with his hair illuminated. She took a breath and tried to compose her features.

They scampered down the stairs, talking about Harry's busted Nimbus and she fell in with them, a step behind, and listened to them prattle on. Thankfully, they were too busy talking to notice the permanent blush on her cheeks and the biting of her lip. Ron was gesticulating about Malfoy's incident with Buckbeak again but Hermione couldn't help the look on her face while watching his hands move.

"Oh, bother," she whispered before glancing at Ron once again. They passed one of the suits of armor, with a decorative wreath around it and she smiled. She looked around the great hall and saw a few sprigs of mistletoe.

"Maybe Christmas," she said to herself and rushed to catch up with both of them.


	27. Top shelf stew

**A/N: **So… I was intending to start on storyboarding for the re-write on my OM when I saw a particular image this morning and the mind took off running before I could strap on my trainers. I eagerly wrote coyotelaughingsoftly and she begged me to write the idea. So, here it is. **Rated T **for a hint of innuendo, angst, and well, no lemons but plenty of pepper. Special guest starring - a vase, courtesy of Anotherkate.

Finally, my solicitor wanted me to remind everyone HP belongs to Jo. I control the plot and the gas on the stove in my own house. - _DG_

* * *

"Ron, what are you doing?"

He looked up from the parchment notes on the table in the basement dining room.

"Is that a recipe?"

"Yeah, I reckon it is."

"Why are you looking at lamb stew recipes?"

"Because I want to do something nice for your parents since they made dinner two weeks ago."

"You want to cook for them? Are you mental?"

"No," He huffed. "But they got shirty with me and I want to show them that I can make an effort too."

"You don't have to, Ron."

"Hermione, I want to do this. I can't let your parents think that I'm not trying to make an effort with them."

"There's nothing you have to prove, Ron. They know you're it for me. There will be no one else in my life."

"But your Mum yelled at me the last time we ate over there."

"Ron, she yelled at me too. That was an expensive vase that broke accidentally."

"I didn't mean to knock it off when I was reaching for the buttered peas." He ran his hands through his hair. "And we did fix it, right? She didn't have to leave teeth marks in my arse over it."

"No, that's my job. But she was upset, thinking that her grandmother's vase was broken. That's why she yelled at you then she yelled at me for repairing it without asking her first."

"Oh, so it wasn't just me."

"No, Love, it wasn't. Mum still gets irate when I do magic."

"Anyway, I want to do this. I want to show them I can do things the Muggle way, and not just with Magic that still makes them uncomfortable. I don't want them thinking I'm a layabout."

"And I said you have nothing to prove, with them or me, either."

"I feel like I need to."

"Nonsense." She sat down across from him at the table.

"Quit contradicting me. I'm doing this, you're going to help me, and that's my decision."

"Well, if you're going to be shirty about it, we'll do this. When do you want to do it?"

"I want to cook them dinner when we go over there Saturday."

"I still say you're being mental. You don't have to cook them dinner." She looked away from his notes.

"Don't take that tone with me. I spent plenty of Sundays with Mum, when I wasn't working, learning how to cook. She likes my Lamb stew."

"You, cooking? Why haven't you told me this?"

"It's because I wanted to surprise you at some point. You've been home for three weeks and I wanted to have a nice dinner made for you."

Hermione walked around the end of the table and stood between his splayed knees. She smiled and it only grew more intense. "You are incredibly clever, Ron Weasley."

"Thanks," he grinned. "Now, we'll apparate over there and then I can send you to a grocer to get what we need."

"Are you sure you have everything that Molly cooks with?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I've made it a half-dozen times now and she said it's good."

"OK then. We'll do that."

"Wait. Do your parents like lamb stew?"

"Well, if I can't find lamb, I'm sure a nice beef roast will work too. They like stews, with plenty of potatoes, carrots, peas, and onions."

"Can we get that at the store? Do we need to purchase it somewhere special? Do we have to go to a butcher's counter to get lamb?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We don't have to go to a butcher. We can get those things at a Muggle grocer. I'm sure that Tesco's will carry it, or Aldi's."

"What are those?"

"Those are the names of the stores, dear. I don't always shop at the one around the corner from the Ministry. They charge too much, sometimes."

"Oh, ok. But I don't have to bring over pans, or pots, or anything else, right? She's got those things I'd need to cook with, right?"

"Yes, dear, she does. But we'll go over and check before you start cooking so nothing's missing from the recipe. Will that suffice?"

"And if we're missing something, we can pop over to the Burrow to get it. Right?"

Hermione leaned in and kissed Ron on the forehead. "Yes, love, we can."

* * *

Ron stirred the stew again while adding a sprinkle of pepper. He'd made it according to Mum's directions. The pot looked a little wonky. Hermione said it would work just fine when she handed it to him. Even the lid looked strange, like it locked into place. But he did as Mum taught him, from browning the meat and using flour to make taste better.

He finished browning the meat and threw in the sliced onions. He then poured in the broth they bought to go into it, too.

Hermione had her wand out, spelling the knives to slice the carrots and potatoes for the stew.

"What are you doing?" Jean snarled. "You can't use magic to control those knives. They can get someone hurt."

"I'm watching them while they work, Mum." Hermione continued to focus on them and not her irritated Mum in the doorway.

"No. I absolutely forbid you using magic to control something so dangerous in my kitchen. You cut them by hand or don't cut them at all."

"Mum, it's probably safer that I'm cutting the vegetables this way than by hand. Trust me, it's perfectly safe."

"No. I forbid it in this house."

"Mum, you're being unreasonable."

Jean stormed out. Hermione ceased her wand towards the knives and they fell with a clatter. Ron stirred the onions, knowing that a row was coming that would brew faster than a badly formed potion in a cauldron.

Hermione stormed out and in seconds, rowing could be heard all the way to Whitehall.

Ron scooped up the potatoes and carrots into the pot and put the lid on it, hearing it click. He went after them with the intention of diffusing the row that was already boiling over in the study.

"Why do you refuse to obey my rules in this house, Hermione?"

Ron froze in the doorway and watched the Granger women going at each other. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and knew that the Men were staying out of the fray.

"You said you wanted dinner at 7pm sharp. To make that deadline, when we arrived back at the house at half five would demand that we prepare some of the meal magically."

"My rule of _no magic_ in this house is ten times more important that keeping to a bloody serving deadline. You disrespect me and your father in ours house by using magic again. You wanted an excuse and conveniently used one."

"That's not true and you know it!" Hermione yelled.

"Don't you take that tone with me, young lady! I've had enough of your disrespectful behavior – "

"Disrespectful? I was cutting vegetables for your dinner? How are my actions disrespectful?"

"I've had enough of your insolence, Hermione!"

"Merlin, Ron and I do something nice for you and you get swotty with me over how I do it! I can't believe how," Hermione bit off the rest of her retort and stormed out of the room.

"Well? Are you going to stand there like a lump or going to get her to see things _my_ way?"

"Mrs. Granger, I'm going to calm Hermione down and hopefully, by the time I'm finished, dinner will be ready. Excuse me," he followed Hermione into the kitchen once again. He chased her through the slowly closing door and found her in the carport, breathing heavy.

"Hermione?"

"I was trying to get dinner on the table at 7, like she asked." She breathed hard, like she was laboring to catch her breath. "I didn't want or need to hear her snide comments about not having dinner ready when we said. But then she saw me working with magic and decided that I was being disrespectful."

"You couldn't have done anything today to appease her. You know that, right?"

"I'm trying so hard to make things work with her and anything I do just isn't enough for her."

Ron took a step closer before wrapping Hermione in his arms. "You're doing fine, love. I know it's hard but we'll keep proving to her that Magic is a source of good, especially with us."

She looked up and he smiled. Her face was a mess and even her teeth stood out but that didn't matter to him. "I love you. Thank you for being here."

He kissed her quickly. "Come on, we'll eat dinner and then have pudding and we'll – "

A deafening roar erupted behind the kitchen door followed by a very loud **bang!**

Ron shoved Hermione behind him, wand drawn for the danger and pushed the door open. He expected Death Eaters, or a rampaging rabid hippogriff behind the door.

"The bloody hell?" two voices spoke at once.

Ron took a step through the mudroom and saw what could only be described as a disaster.

"Oh shite," He groaned.

Hermione shoved Ron aside and stared at the oven. She stepped into the kitchen and didn't notice Jean standing in the doorway towards the dining room, gobsmacked at the disaster her kitchen was.

"Ron," she spoke and couldn't fathom an answer.

"What happened?" Jean asked redundantly.

Hermione peered at the now broken stove and oven. The top had fallen through into the oven space, with the pot lying at a forty five degree angle. The lid to the pot was embedded in the ceiling and the door to the oven was lying on the floor.

"Everybody all right?" Ron asked.

"Hermione, what happened?" Jean interrupted.

"Ron? When you put the lid on the pot with the stew, did it click?"

"Well, yeah. That's the pot and lid you gave me from the cabinet. I put it on when I went to see about you and Mrs. Granger rowing."

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes. "Mum, I'll replace your stove immediately."

"What are you on about, Hermione?" Robert asked from the doorway.

"I accidentally handed Ron a pressure cooker, not a dutch oven. When he put the lid on, I guess it locked and the pressure built inside the cooker. We came in from the garage when we heard the explosion."

Robert pushed past Jean into the kitchen to survey the damage.

"Dad, I'll right this today. I should have been in here keeping an eye on the stove. But I was upset," Hermione drifted off again, not completing her thoughts.

Robert pulled the pot out of the baking compartment and looked inside the canister. "Well, Ron, I dunno about the rest of the kitchen, but your stew smells terrific."

"Mr. Granger, I – "

"Hermione, you blew up my kitchen. How can you be – "

"Jean, enough. Might I remind you that you started it, by laying into her by using magic in this house?" He put the pot on the island in the middle and looked at the rest. "Ron, see if you can reach the lid up there. I at least want it out of the sheetrock in the ceiling."

Ron stretched his large hand upward towards the ceiling, letting his shirt ride up and exposing bare hipbones and plenty of freckles and ginger hair below his navel. "Not quite there. Hermione, get me a step-stool or a chair or something I can reach it."

"Ron, wouldn't – "

"No, just get me a chair," he huffed and saw her comprehension kick in. She pulled out the two-step stool from the pantry and he stepped on it, finally reaching the embedded lid in the ceiling. He wrenched it out and looked it over. "I can't tell if it can be repaired or not," he spoke quietly.

Hermione handed it to her Dad while Jean stood in the other doorway, quivering in anger.

"Jean, why don't you go to my study? I'll be in shortly with the kids so we can talk." He gave them one particular look while escorting his wife out of the room. "Five minutes," he mouthed before leaving too.

Hermione pulled her wand before sealing the room.

"Hermione, what are you doing?"

"We've got five minutes to repair the kitchen for my mistake. "

"You sure that's a bright idea?"

"It's either that or we're kicked out of the house again for another 2 months. I want Mum in my life, even if she'd mad at me, than not and leaving the kitchen destroyed. Besides, replacing that stove will set us back about five hundred galleons. I dunno about you, but that is all I have in my vault at Gringott's and I'm not spending it on a new stove for Mum."

"Since you put it _that_ way," he replies before pulling his wand from his jeans pocket. The couple worked quietly and quickly, repairing the ceiling and also the hinges on the door to the oven. The top was trickier, so Hermione worked on it.

"There. That should be all the repairs we need."

"Will it work after we used magic on it?"

"There's only way to know," She spoke confidently before putting her hand on the knob. "It's a gas stove, not electric, so it shouldn't be that problematic."

"Do be careful," he whispered.

Hermione turned the knob and she watched the fire erupt from the pilot light. "Whew," she whispered before checking all of the other dials and knobs.

"And the oven?"

She opened the door and heat blazed out. "I reckon it works."

She turned everything off and looked at Ron. "Ron, I'm so sorry I ruined your dinner."

He smiled. "Things happen. I'll tell you sometime about when Fred nicked Mum's wand while she was making dinner and the mess that ensued when she couldn't find it. But since your dad said it smelled good, let's try it."

Ron shoved in a wooden spoon into the stew and took a bite. "Bloody hell, it is good. Get us some bowls, would you?"

Hermione procured four bowls and handed them to Ron. "Ron?"

"Eh?" He asked through a spoonful of stew.

"Where's the bread?"

They looked around a second before Hermione spied the open cabinet door on the island. She looked inside and started laughing. "Found it but I don't think it's edible." She pulled it out and burnt like a Hebridean Black and as hard as one of Hagrid's Rock cakes.

"Damn. I knew I forgot something."

They carried four bowls and spoons into the study and Mrs. Granger's recriminations.


	28. Breaking Charms

**A/N:** So it's now Ron's birthday in the UK and I hashed this out earlier. Part 2 will go up tomorrow since I've not written it yet. Part 1 is Ace safe. Part 2 certainly will not be. Stay tuned! – _DG_

* * *

"I never thought I'd say this, but I hate flying."

Harry looked up from his over-stuffed plate of dinner – or what passed at training camp as a dinner – and smirked. "You're only bent because it's your bloody birthday tomorrow and you can't shag Hermione for it."

"Well, that too, but all these flying drills are rubbing in the wrong places."

"Ugh, I don't want to know."

"You asked."

"No, I didn't."

Ron shoved a bite of dinner into his mouth. Sure it was six am in the morning but they trained all night and had class much of the day. "I thought Aurors didn't fly this much?" Ron griped over his jacketed potato.

"Bollocks. Tonks flew on all the broom missions, remember."

"No. I'm too tired to think or remember anything."

"Weasley," a booming voice erupted from the doorway. "You got a love letter from your girlfriend."

Ron hunched down over his plate and tried to ignore Saunders. But when you're the Auror flying instructor and a former All-England Quidditch star, you couldn't ignore him except at your peril. Patrick Saunders flew for Ballycastle back in the late 80s before his contract wasn't renewed. He joined the Aurors and took to it exceptionally well.

"Think I should read it out-loud to everyone in here?" His smile wasn't friendly or kind but predatory.

"Si,r no Sir," Ron barked back. "Sodding git," he said under his breath.

"Well, you don't get a choice in the matter, do you?"

"Sir, No sir!" His ears turned painfully red, knowing that the other man took pleasure and pride in humiliating him in front of the others. But then the man enjoyed breaking every single trainee in camp, one way or another.

The Auror pulled his wand from his holster and spelled it open, charming it to read aloud to everyone present. A soft voice started out and Ron begged and pleaded that it wasn't one of Hermione's saucy letters she'd send him from time to time.

"_Dear Ron,_

"_I apologize that I can't get away to see you tomorrow. I know you're working hard at Camp and will return when you are done. So, for now, think on Christmas to help you get through the rough days you're having. _

"_As for you, Auror Saunders,"_

The lunchroom went dead silent at her mention of the Flying instructor's name.

"_I know you're reading this letter to the trainees, hoping to humiliate them with ribald letters written to them to keep their morale up. You'll get no such pleasure from me._

"_However, I have filed a formal complaint with Director Robards, in London, at your illegal activities._

"_So Auror Saunders, have a fantastic day. It should be your last as a free man."_

Ron glanced towards the door and saw Director Robards along with a tall black witch standing behind him. He knew that witch well enough to not cross her in a brightly lit room – much less Knockturn Alley.

"Auror Saunders, you're relieved of duty, pending a full inquiry in London. Intercepting owls without a direct order is illegal. We're also investigating your malicious hazing of trainees we're in desperate need of since the Auror Corps were decimated."

"I dunno Auror Jones. It might be that Auror Saunders has an agenda, maybe even treasonous, as to why he wants everyone to drop out."

The tall witch walked up to the Auror and took the parchment out of his hands and walked to Ron. "Here. Here's your real letter." She turned to the mortified one. "You're also under arrest for abetting Umbridge in capturing Scrimgour for Voldemort." She kept her wand down but her face was murderous. "He used my wand after stunning me, stunning Scrimgour before kidnapping the Minister and escaping. He left my wand as implicating evidence." She scowled deeply. "I look forward to putting you in Azkaban for the rest of your miserable life, you sodding bastard."

"No! You won't take me." Auror Saunders pulled his wand but was powerfully stunned into the oak ceiling supports before dropping bonelessly in a lump.

All heads were turned and saw Ron standing in front of Harry, sliding his wand back into his holster. "Sorry, sir, but I saw his hand at his wand and knew he'd hurt someone if I didn't act."

The others looked him over once before dropping their wands. "Good work, Weasley." He looked around at the rest of the trainees. "We'll have someone up from London tomorrow to take over. You've got liberty the rest of today and tomorrow."

Auror Jones stood close to Ron, speaking under her breath. "Weasley, you need to give a statement first before your 24 hours of liberty. Report back to camp at 8am Tuesday. Oh, and Weasley? The Headmistress already knows you're coming to visit. You can use the Floo in the Camp office to get to McGonagall's office. I've informed her of your arrival but don't cock it up."

Ron nodded once and proceeded to follow Director Robards out of the luncheon hall. "Potter, you've got liberty too. I don't want to hear any escapades tittering around the Great Hall when I return Tuesday. Understand me?"

"Yes, Auror Jones."

The tall witch spelled ropes around Auror Saunders before hoisting him up with magic. "Next stop, London." She pulled a journal out of her pocket and saw it turn blue. She disappeared with her suspect to applause from the rest in the gathering.

"Anyone who has been humiliated by that wretched sod, form a queue at Camp Headquarters. We'll get through it as fast as possible."

Director Robards lead the way out, followed by Ron and Harry.

* * *

Two hours later, Ron stepped out of the Floo with his rucksack over his shoulder, trying to dust the ash from his cloak.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley. You're right on schedule."

He looked out and saw the Headmistress sitting primly at her desk. "Headmistress."

"Rubbish on that. You're training to be an Auror. Call me Minerva."

Ron put his hand out and shook hers. _Once an Auror, Always an Auror_, so the saying went in Camp. She was never an Auror but anyone who can survive five stunners at the same time at her age deserved equal respect. "Mum would beat me if I was that respectful, Minerva." He grinned before blushing hard. "How about McGonagall?"

"That's fine, Mr. Weasley."

"So do I wait here?"

"Yes, actually. See, I've summoned Miss Granger to my office under the pretense of capturing an intruder on the grounds. Instead, I must insist that you mind your manners while here for the time being."

"And my Sister?"

"You'll see her at dinner, since it's only half three. I've also made arrangements for you to have a guest quarters in Gryffindor tower, since Miss Granger still shares a room with Miss Weasley. It would behoove you to set wards around your room, so others aren't pestering you all hours of the day – or night. I'm sure you'd like some sleep on your liberty, correct?"

"It might be nice. But then Hermione might want to continue her studies and I'll only be in her way."

"Regarding that, Miss Granger is excused from all her classes tomorrow. I will insist upon it." McGonagall barely smiled but Ron took it as the warmest compliment.

"You sent for me, Headmaster?" A voice called up the stairwell. "Miss Luna said that there was an intruder on the grounds?" She took the final ten steps up and froze. "Ron!"

Hermione stood frozen on the steps leading into the Headmistress office. Her boyfriend, who she thought would be off at camp until May, was sitting there, looking a little worse for wear but beaming. "Hi," he said quietly, trying not to break the moment.

"Here's our intruder, Miss Granger."

"He's not an intruder," she dropped her satchel and ran to him. He lifted her up off her feet and spun her around, dropping a not-so chaste kiss on her lips.

"_Hurmph, Hurmph_," McGonagall cleared her throat to cease their passionate reunion. "As much as I am thrilled to witness your re-acquaintance, I must ask that you keep decorum in public spaces while you are here, Mr. Weasley."

Ron lowered Hermione to the ground and sat back down, slightly mortified at what had happened. "My apologies, Headmistress."

"Rubbish. But please keep your reunion chaste when not behind closed doors. I don't wish for the Head Girl to have any more second years nattering on about her any more than already occurs."

"The kids talk about you? Anything I need to deal with?"

Hermione blushed further. "It's nothing that I've not heard before or can't handle. I'm fine."

"Now, Miss Weasley, you are excused from lessons tomorrow, provided you see to escorting Mr. Weasley around the castle. Since there have been some changes, he should have a guided tour around, provided the student body doesn't mob him while he is with us."

The couple stood to leave before being stopped. "It is good to see you too, Mr. Weasley. I'll instruct the elves to make a special feast tonight, for you and Mr. Potter. Is that acceptable, Miss Granger?"

"That's more than acceptable, Headmaster. Good day." She stopped short of the doorway. "When do I need to have him back here?"

"I have to report back at 8am Tuesday. So I need to be here at 7 so I can stow my gear and change accordingly for camp."

"Do you have any further questions, Miss Granger?"

"I have none, headmistress. Thank you. I will escort our intruder forthwith."

The couple departed and the Headmistress scribbled her note to Madame Pomfrey and the other professors. They didn't need to prattle on either about the two couples in the castle – well, no more than usual, considering the circumstances.


	29. Breaking More Charms

**A/N:** Surprise: this is part 2 of three. Part three is coming up shortly tonight. **Rated T** for those of you in County Devon. Stay tuned for Part 3...

* * *

"Where are we going?" Ron followed Hermione out of the Great Hall and away from all of the first years clamoring for his attention.

"I'm on duty tonight for rounds. No one would switch with me so I have to do them."

"Ah. OK. I'll come along. I want to see the Head Girl do her thing."

"I'm not as bad as my fifth year, so I'm told. Someone," She side-eyed Ron with a smile, "taught me the value of discretion and tempering my adhering to rules."

"Yeah, who was that?"

Hermione pushed open one door and found no one in the empty classroom. "You, Ron." She closed the door behind him and pushed him into the door, kissing him breathless. "I figure making you wait hours to do that was long enough."

"Damn right," He turned her around and pushed her into the wood door and reciprocated gladly. "Think we can lock the door?"

"I'd rather have you in your room rather than on some dusty desk where a professor could walk in," she replied demurely. "Not that I haven't thought about you bending me over the desk and having your way with me."

Ron stood speechless. "You fantasize about me? And bending you over a desk and shagging you rotten?"

Hermione stepped back from him and opened her robes. Under the black material, she was wearing a form-fitting jumper. Ron goggled at her since it was obvious she wasn't wearing a vest or bra under it. "Bloody hell, Hermione!"

"I know it boggles you, but I ache for you. I've missed you terribly these past 2 months. And as much as I want you to ravish me here, if we did, I'd neglect my other duties."

"So you're not saying no, just not yet."

"When we finish our rounds, I want to lock and seal your door and then you to have your way with me."

Ron pulled her to his chest and offered her promises with the touch of his lips. "Then let's finish and get back. I'm ready for you, too."

Hermione closed her robes and cloak, covering her stocking clad legs and her barely covering body. "Now we can go." She opened the door and winked at him before walking out.

Ron adjusted his trousers and kept visualizing revolting thoughts to quell his raging hard-on. It eventually worked until he saw a flash of leg or her smiling over her shoulder at him.

"Hermione, how much longer?" He whined a few minutes later.

"Oh, we'll be another couple of minutes, including a walk-up the astronomy tower."

"Up there?"

"Unfortunately, Ron. Now come on."

"Oh all right," he pouted and made it to the first steps. He stopped again when he saw that she had shed her cloak and was wearing only her skirt and jumper, along with the knee socks he loved on her legs.

"Coming, Ron?" She cheeked.

"Bloody witch," he growled and started running up the stairs two at a time. He stopped her on the first landing, penning her to the wall. "Why are you teasing me?"

"I'm not. I've tripped a couple of times wearing my cloak walking up and down these stairs and I don't want to get hurt, not tonight." She gave him that private little smile, reserved only for him, to show she did know what she was doing. "And it's foreplay, too. I want you randy for me when we get back so you can have firsts and I can enjoy seconds and thirds, of you."

"Thirds?"

She slipped under his arm and continued up the stairs. She stopped on the second landing and sent a couple of fifth year Ravenclaws back to their own tower. "Yes Ron: thirds. Since I am excused from lessons tomorrow, I thought you might be hungry." She gave him her best innocent look before trudging up the next long flight of stairs.

He ran up after her, falling in beside her. "Can you get breakfast sent up? I think a bit of a lie-in might be in order."

Hermione stopped on the fourth landing and used her wand to illuminate the dark corners of the landing. Sure enough, she spotted a couple of sixth year Gryffindors and called them out before they could start shagging. "And Miss Turlington, see Madame Pomfrey tomorrow. If you're going to act like an adult, I don't want you having consequences of such yet."

"Yes, Miss Granger." The girl threw on her jumper and cloak before running down the stairs.

"How'd you – "

"I do listen, Ron, when I'm in places with other students. Just like you listen in the locker room and from gossip at camp, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so." He watched her start towards the stairs leading to the top of the tower. "But I never talked about my crap with Saunders. So how did you know?"

She stopped and turned back around to him. Her face was bathed in moonlight, while the rest was in shadow. "You're not the only one who sends me letters, Ron. Ginny writes Harry daily and Neville writes her too."

"But I never said anything. Then there's the letter yesterday and you're calling out an Auror on the owl intercepts and I'm boggled how you knew because I never told you."

"Neville let it slip in a letter to Ginny, that there was an Auror who was a bad apple, but had it out for you. Harry didn't say anything but Neville did. So for the last 3 letters, I've had it charmed to read one thing if the charm was broken and another if it was. I knew from the context of your letters that someone was intercepting the owls and reading them before you."

"What did your writing say?"

"The broken charm ones were the raunchy ones. The unbroken ones were the tame ones. That's how I knew what was happening."

"But how?"

"I asked Auror Jones. She told me that letters are read over before they leave camp, but they are supposed to be untouched for coming in. When I mentioned it to her that an Auror was reading your mail to everyone before you had, she went ballistic and started her own investigation. She _suggested_ the idea that I would write all those things in your letters, as tempting bait for the particular Auror."

"Hermione! The blokes at camp –"

"Yes, I know they think I'm a scarlet woman. I don't care because it's you. But I thought you'd have cottoned on since I'd never speak so… bluntly in letters to camp."

"I admit it was mortifying at first, but then when I heard some of the raunchy letters the other blokes were getting in camp, I thought it was just part of the culture there." He blushed hard and wouldn't look at her. "They'd take the piss some and then get back to their own letters."

"I thought you knew better. I'd not speak of that in public for any reason." She sighed. "But I came to understand a bit better after talking with Auror Jones. She said that they run you like worn out hippogriffs while at camp, training twelve hours a day sometimes and then classroom instruction and conditioning. It's a wonder that you get four hours a sleep a night, if that, so she says it.

"But when I mentioned to her about that particular one, piecing it together from Harry's letters to Ginny and the one from Neville in particular, I asked her about him. Her face went hard and asked me to repeat the particular Auror's name. I did and she muttered something about _that sodding bastard_ and left the room immediately.

"I thought she was mad at me but returned an hour later, apologizing to me but said that my information was to be kept private, since it was now Auror business."

"I never suspected. I just thought he was a git taking the piss from everyone."

"Well, he is, but seems that he was more than just a git."

She started the final climb and he fell in beside her. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't think that you'd use your cunning to help me. I just thought you were trying to help my morale by being randy."

"Oh I am, but you're also one of my best friends, and my lover. You don't need scandalous letters to keep your morale up. What you need from me is my love, praise, and words of encouragement. Those other letters weren't me but yet they were – the _me_ that only you get to know and appreciate."

"But the blokes at camp now know."

"Do you think I care what they think?"

"I care," he said quietly before stepping close to her. "I don't want anyone thinking less of you."

"And Tuesday morning, Auror Jones will be there and _explain_ it was a sting to catch Auror Saunders and his illegal activities."

"But the sods at camp know you're with me."

"And how many there besides Harry know our current situation?"

"Neville."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Anyone else?"

"Not that I know of."

"That's exactly my point. If Auror Jones says it was a sting operation, that preserves my reputation, especially since they were only scandalous the last few letters, right?"

Ron bowed his head. "You really are brilliant, Hermione."

"I know. But I did all of it to protect you, Ron. I love you so much and I know you can handle your own issues but sometimes, you take too much and don't stand up for yourself enough, even from me." Hermione took his hand and kissed the knuckles once. "Now come on. I bet we catch three more couples upstairs before we finish."

They made the floor beneath the tower roof and found four couples, including Dean and Luna in various state of undress. Hermione refused to look at the various couples, or Luna's bare back as she redressed.

"If I catch anyone the rest of the week, points will be deducted. Now off with you."

She waited until the four couples were gone before laughing to herself. She pulled her wand from her pocket and non-verbally charmed the room. Sure enough, there was one other couple present.

"Harry, Ginny, finish up whatever you're doing and come back to the tower. I'm staying with Ron tonight so you have the room. We'll take the long route back to the tower. I don't want you sealed out tonight."

Hermione turned and started down the stairs.

"How'd you know?"

"Made sense since we went out on rounds and they were too goggle eyed at one another over dinner. I figured Harry would bring his cloak along for some privacy with Ginny away from everyone else."

* * *

**A/N2**: Part 3 will be posted as chapter 111 of The Drabble Series. - _DG_


	30. Natty Blooms

**A/N:** Written for a certain bird on Tumblr which languished in prompt purgatory for far too long. **Rated T** for Ron's filthy mouth and lemon zest (aka innuendo)

* * *

Bloody Hell!

Why the fuck did Hermione interrupt me? Why couldn't she let me finish what I was going to tell her, huh? Why the bloody hell did she not wait thirty bloody seconds and let me finish what I was talking about?

But no! She had to get all swotty and barmy and start a row, about me being late again to brunch with Mum and Dad on Sunday and when I try to tell her why, she turned beastly.

Then Mum got shirty and prattled on about _respecting my fiancée_ and then bloody hell ripped my bollocks off for raising my voice at the table! Of course I'm going to get mad! Mum bloody well sided with Hermione when I was right.

Can't get a word in edgewise with those birds!

So now, after talking with Dad – and I love Dad, don't get me wrong – but he can natter on about so many things when all I want to do is row with Hermione, snog her silly, and shag her until she realizes I'm right and she's not.

Bloody good that did! But then Mum smacked me on the side of my head with her wooden spoon and I exploded.

So now, to make up for the disaster known as brunch – and fuck, I didn't even get to finish my meal, much less pudding! – I have to go out to the orchard and pick some bloody flowers to make it up to Hermione, at least according to Mum.

Bloody cold and wet out here!

Why'd Mum have to start yelling? And I saw Percy trying to keep from laughing, the git. At least Audrey had the decency to keep quiet while Mum and Hermione were yelling at me. She's nice, and seems like she's fit enough, at least for that Prefect Prat. He's constantly smiling so I bet he's getting his knob worked too, the smug git. I need my knob polished today too but I'm out here in the sodding garden to pick some bloody flowers to make it up to Hermione, much less Mum.

Where the hell are those flowers Mum told me to go pick? She said out in the orchard, that she'd planted some rose bushes but I can't see –

Fuck! Where the hell did those bloody things jump out from?

Fuck. Those are the rose bushes and I think I just trampled the damn things.

Thank Merlin for Magic! I doubt Mum will notice I'd walked through the bloody things.

'Ron,'

Oh fuck. What now, Hermione?

'I don't need roses,, no matter what your Mum says.'

Shit. I'm fucked.

'Hermione,' and bloody hell, she's so damn fetching in that dress. I want to shove that dress up under her baps and suck that delicate skin on her stomach and -

"Now what was it that you wanted to tell me?"

Fuck. I can't remember.

"It must have been important enough for you to yell at me and your Mum."

"Obviously not," I pouted. "Not if both of you have bits of me in your beak."

"I'm listening now. Please tell me what was so important that you were an hour late to Brunch."

I still have to pick those bloody flowers. Mum would thump me hard if I didn't do as she told me to do. But Hermione is here, looking so fit and blushing hard. Maybe she'll go with me to get them.

Her hands are so small compared to mine, and they are chilly in the April air. But then she says mine are like fire, burning hot and so warm in comparison. But her hands warm up so much when she's touching my tadger and rubbin' my knob.

Shit. Flowers. Right. I can't think about getting a leg over when I've got other things to do.

"Watch your step, love," I tell her and she's smiling like I complimented her. Silly witch. But that root there would have hurt if she tripped on it. Brilliant she is but she doesn't pay attention sometimes, like the fact I was barmy for her for yonks and she didn't cotton on.

"I told you that I didn't need flowers. You know I rather they stay on the bushes since they only wilt in a day or two and then I have to toss them out."

"But I'm getting these for Mum since she told me to. She'd smack me with that spoon again if I didn't get those flowers she demanded."

"She didn't demand, Ron."

You don't know Mum like I do. When mum says do something, you do it, and with no cheek. I remember one time – "

"Sickle for your thoughts?"

Oh, right. Hermione. She loves talking and you know, I don't mind listening to her, and occasionally talking, too. I prefer doing other things with my mouth but for now, since the ground is so cold and wet, talking will do.

"I was thinking about Mum hitting me with her spoon when I gave her cheek."

"Was that often?"

"Sometimes, but then I learned to keep quiet at the dinner table and she quit hitting me with the spoon. Then she'd get mad when I wouldn't talk at all, trying to eat so fast so Fred wouldn't take my dinner. It's completely barmy that I can't win, either for giving cheek or not talking at the table."

"You don't have to yell, not when I'm there."

I look at her and she's smirking some. When did Hermione learn to flirt? Is she even flirting? Bugger if I know.

"Then again, yelling at the right time and place is never remiss."

Yeah, she's flirting, I reckon. When did she learn that? Did Ginny teach her that? Or did she read it out of a sodding book? Fuck it.

"You really want to know why I was late to lunch?"

She squeezed my hand and it's not the same as squeezing my bits but it'll do considering we're out in the orchard and Mum can still see us from the back door if she squinted hard enough.

"I got promoted at work and have ten days off. That's why I was late – 'cause Robards –"

Omph! I do wish she'd warn me when she's going to jump me.

Sod the bloody natty blooms, not with what she'd doing with her tongue.


End file.
